tihraxy  of  Che  theological  ^eminarjp 

PRINCETON    •    NEW  JERSEY 


PRESENTED  BY 

The  Library  of  the 
Nev7  Jersey  College  for  Women 

BX  5845^. D6  1860  v. 4 
Doane,  George  Washington, 

1799-1859. 
The  life  and  writings  of 
_   George  Washington  Doane  . . 


LIFE  AND  WRITINGS 

OF 

/ 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON  DOANE, 

D.D.  LL.D., 


FOR    TWENTY-SETKN    YEARS 


BISHOP   OF   ]^EW   JERSEY. 


CONTAINING  HIS 


POETICAL  WORKS,  SERMONS,  AND  MISCELLANEOUS  WRITINGS; 


A   MEMOIR, 

BY    HIS   SON, 

WILLIAM   CEOSWELL  DOAKE, 

IN    FOUR   VOLUMES. 
VOL.    IV. 


NEW  YOEK : 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

443    &   445   BROADWAY. 

LONDON:    16   LITTLE  BRITAIN. 

1861. 


THE  ■:'/ 


THE 


EDUCATIONAL  WRITINGS,  AND  ORATIONS, 


GEORGE  WASHINGTON  DOANE, 

D.D.   LL.D., 
BISHOP    OF    NEW    JERSEY; 

PRESIDENT  OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE,  AND  RECTOR  OF  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


EDITED   BY   HIS   SON, 

WILLIAM  CROSWELL  DOANE, 


'They  that  be  teachers  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament." — Dan.  xii.  3  (mar- 
ginal reading.) 


NEW  YORK : 
D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY, 

443    &  445    BROADWAY. 

LONDON:    16   LITTLE   BRITAIN. 

186L 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1860,  by 

The  Rev.  WILLIAM  CROSWELL  DOANE, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 

District  of  New  Jersey. 


TO 

MY  FATHER'S  FAITHFUL  FELLOW-LABOURERS, 

IN  THE  QEEAT  "WOKE  OF  CHEISTIAN  EDUCATION; 

AND     TO     THE     SONS     AND     DAUGHTERS     OF    HIS     LOVE, 

WHO  HAVE  GONE  OUT   FROM   THE  TWIN  HOMES  OF 

BURLINGTON   COLLEGE,  AND   ST.   MARY'S  HALL; 

AND    TO 

THE   CHILDREN   THAT   STILL   LINGER  THERE, 

AND     SHALL     BE,    TO     THE     LATEST     GENERATION,     GATHERED 

WITHIN   THOSE   SACRED    FOLDS : 

WHICH   CONTAINS   THE   EECORD   OF   THEIE   PORTION 
OF     THE      LABOURS      OF      HIS      LONG     LIFE, 

IS  INSCRIBED, 

AS  THE  LEGACY  OF  HIS  LONGER  LOVE. 


P  K  E  F  A  C  E, 


The  contents  of  this  volume  need  no  preface.  They  set 
forth  in  writing,  what  is  impressed  in  the  characters  of  faithful 
men  and  earnest  women,  over  all  our  land,  the  thoroughness 
and  reality  of  my  father's  plans  of  education.  "  While  most 
among  us  are  dreaming  about  '  Christian  nurture,'  and  quietly 
building  castles  in  the  air,"  writes  an  English  Reviewer, 
"  Bishop  Doane  is  awake  and  hard  at  work.  There  is  an  ear- 
nestness of  zeal,  a  fearlessness  of  determination,  a  disregard  of 
popular  whims,  a  comprehensiveness  of  plan,  a  straightfor- 
ward, undeviating  fidelity  of  execution  in  the  Bishop's  purpose, 
which,  with  God's  blessing,  will  not  be  in  vain."  They  have 
had  God's  blessing.  They  have  not  been  in  vain.  Though 
the  author  of  them  has  "  dug  "  his  "  grave  under  the  founda- 
tions of  a  College ; "  and  that  grave  now  "  holds  the  dust  of 
him  whom  God  employed  to  found  St.  Mary's  Hall." 

The  two  sides  of  my  father's  life  presented  here,  were  most 
prominent  in  his  character :  the  Scholar  and  the  Teacher,  and 
the  Patriot ;  the  Christian  Scholar  and  Teacher,  and  the  Chris- 
tian Patriot ;  throwing  into  all  these  relations,  the  sacred- 
ness  and  the  authority  of  his  Episcopal  office.  I  have  only 
added  to  the  writings  that  illustrate  this,  one  or  two  of  his  me- 
morial sermons,  as  proofs  of  the  appreciative  earnestness  of  his 
love,  and  of  his  power  as  a  portrait-painter. 

It  occurs  to  mCj  to  remind  those  who  may  be  struck  with 


8  PEEFACE. 

a  want  of  umformity  in  punctuation  throughout  this  volume, 
that  many  years  elapsed  between  the  earlier  and  later  writings ; 
— ^years,  during  which,  my  father's  critical  work  as  a  teacher, 
developed  and  systematized  his  own  peculiar  and  thorough 
system  of  pointing  ;  and  I  have  left  them,  as  I  found  them  in 
his  MSS,,  or  in  the  printed  copies,  corrected  by  himself. 

BuBLiNQTON,  Octohcr  1,  A,  D.  1860. 


CONTENTS. 


The  First  Baccalaureate  Address.    A  Christian  College  ;  a  Bulwark  of  the 

Church  ;  a  Stronghold  for  the  Rights  and  Liberties  of  Man,  .  .  .11 
The  Second  Baccalaureate  Address.     The  Developement  of  the  Practical, 

in  subordination  to  the  Spiritual ;  the  true  end  of  Academic  Education,  18 
The  Third  Baccalaureate  Address.  Manners  Makyth  Man,  .  .  .30 
The  Fourth  "  "  The  Ripe  Scholar,     .        .        .        .40 

The  Fifth  "  "  Education  a  Divine  Thing,         .        .    47 

The  Sixth  «  «  The  Child  is  Father  of  the  Man,        .     58 

The  Seventh  "  "  Alma  Mater, 65 

*  The  Eighth           "                 "           A  Christian  Scholar,  and  a  Christian 
Gentleman, 73 


L-The  Ninth               "  " 

The  First  Graduating  Address. 

The  Second  "  " 

The  Third  "  " 

.  The  Fourth  "  " 

The  Fifth  "  " 

The  Sixth  "  " 

The  Seventh  "  " 

The  Eighth  "  " 

The  Ninth  "  " 

The  Tenth  "  •' 

The  Eleventh  "  " 


How  shall  a  Young  Man  cleanse  his  way,  76 
A  perfect  Woman  nobly  planned,  .  .  84 
The  Christian  "Woman,  .  .  .  .90 
The  Spirit  of  Little  Children,  ...     96 

Nothing  Lost, 103 

Farewell, 107 

The  Cross,  the  only  Hope,       .        .        .111 

God  Speed, 116 

The  Halcyon  Moments  of  the  Heart,  .  120 
The  Threshold  of  Life,  .  .  .  .127 
The  Holy  "Women  at  the  Sepulchre,  .  131 
Remember  now  thy  Creator  in  the  days 


of  thy  youth, 137 


The  Twelfth  " 
The  Thirteenth  " 
The  Fourteenth  " 
The  Fifteenth  " 
The  Sixteenth    " 


The  Two  New  Graves,  .  .  .  .142 
The  Handmaid  of  the  Lord,  .  .  .  149 
The  Home;  the  School;  the  Church,  .  155 
The  Polished  Corners  of  the  Temple,  .  164 
The  Swarm, 172 


*  Reprinted  only  in  part. 


10  CONTENTS. 


PAGE 


'  Sermon  I.  The  Church,  the  Teacher  of  Christ's  Little  Children,  .  .  .  1*78 
Sermon  II.  The  Ends  and  Objects  of  Burlington  College,  .  .  .  .199 
The  First  Fourth  of  July  Address.  Sons  of  Washington,  .  .  .  215 
The  Second  Fourth  of  July  Address.  America  and  Great  Britain,  .  .  224 
The  Third  Fourth  of  July  Address.    The  Men  to  make  a  State ;    their 

Making,  and  their  Marks, 235 

The  Fourth  Fourth  of  July  Address.    The  Liberty  which  dwells  with  Duty, 

the  Atmosphere  for  Christian  Freemen, 244 

The  Fifth  Fourth  of  July  Address.  Patriotism,  a  Christian  Duty,  .  .  254 
The  Sixth  Fourth  of  July  Address.     Influence,  without  Intervention,  the 

Duty  of  our  Nation  to  the  World, 261 

The  Seventh  Fourth  of  July  Address.    The  Young  American ;  his  Dangers, 

his  Duties,  and  his  Destinies, 273 

/    The  Eighth  Fourth  of  July  Address.    E  Pluribus  Unum,  ....  288 
The  Ninth  Fourth  of  July  Address.     Organizations  dangerous  to  Free  In- 
stitutions,      299 

The  Cincinnati  Oration.  Civil  Government,  a  Sacred  Trust  from  God,  .  310 
The  New  Jersey  Historical  Society  Address.     The  Goodly  Heritage  of 

Jerseymen, 341 

The  Mount  Vernon  Oration.  One  World,  One  Washington,  .  .  .  36t 
Lecture  before  the  Burlington  Lyceum.    The  Word  of  God  to  be  studied 

with  His  Works, 393 

Lecture  before  the  Mechanics'  Association.      The  Diffusion  of  Useful 

Knowledge, 407 

Address  on  the  Death  of  President  Harrison.  The  Nation's  Grief,  .  .  423 
A  Sermon  on  the  Death  of  President  Taylor.  A  Great  Man  fallen  in  Israel,  447 
A  Sermon  on  the  Death  of  Daniel  Webster.    Daniel  Webster's  real  Glory,  460 

Sermon  I.     Ancient  Charity, 472 

Sermon  IL    The  Church,  the  Fulness  of  Christ, 489 

Sermon  m.     The  Glorious  Things  of  the  City  of  God,  .        .        .        .        .512 

Sermon  IV.     The  Bag,  with  Holes 549 

Sermon  V.     The  Love  of  the  Perishable,  made  perfect  in  the  Love  of  the  Im- 
mortal  559 

Sermon  VI.    The  Sacred  Sympathy  of  Sorrow, 578 


I. 

THE  BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS, 

AT  THE 

*  FIRST  ANNUAL  COMMENCEMENT  OF  BUELINGTON  COLLEGE. 


A   CHKISTIAN   COLLEGE  ;    A  BULWAEK  OF   THE  CHURCH  ;    A  STEONG- 
HOLD   FOR   THE   RIGHTS   AJSfD   LIBERTIES   OF   MAN. 

To-DAY,  our  newly-founded  College  takes  tlie  water- 
level.  For  four  years,  it  has  been,  slowly,  rising,  toward 
tlie  surface.  You  can  see  it,  now,  and  feel  it,  and  stand 
on  it ;  and  be  certain,  that  it  has  foundations.  If  they 
be  not  laid  upon  the  Eock  of  Ages ;  if  Jesus  Christ  be 
not  its  chief  corner-stone  ;  if  it  be  not  a  bulwark  of  the 
Church ;  if  it  be  not  a  stronghold,  for  the  rights,  and 
liberties  of  men ;  then,  no  matter  what  it  may  have  cost ; 
no  matter  whose  blood  may  have  been  mingled  with  the 
mortar :  may  it  perish,  and  the  very  place  of  it  be  lost ! 

I.  Tliis  is  a  religious  College.  It  owes  its  being 
to  the  clear,  and  strong,  conviction,  that  Education  is  a 
divine  thing.  It  is  from  God.  It  is  of  God.  It  is  for 
God.     Whence  can  the  authority,  to  educate  a  human 

*  St.  Michael  and  All  Angels,  A.  D.  1850. 


12  A   CHRISTIAN   COLLEGE, 

soul  proceed,  if  not  from  God  ?  How  can  the  means,  to 
educate  a  human  soul,  be  obtained,  if  not  of  God  ? 
Wliat  can  be  the  motive,  to  educate  a  human  soul,  if 
not  for  God  ?  Is  not  the  soul  of  man  the  in-breathing 
of  the  Godhead  ?  Can  less  than  God  discern  it  ?  Can 
less  than  God  control  it  ?  Can  less  than  God  provide 
for  it  ?  As  the  water  is,  forever,  struggling,  towards  its 
source,  must  not  the  healthful  tendency  of  the  human 
soul  be,  ever,  upward,  toward  its  God  ?  Must  not  the 
play  of  all  its  pulses  be  in  s}Tnpathy  with  Him.  And, 
can  it  rest,  until  it  mingles  with  its  source  ? 

H.  This  is  a  Cliristian  College.  It  has  to  deal  with 
an  immortal  nature,  fallen.  It  contemplates  its  redemp- 
tion, first.  Then,  its  renewal,  in  the  Divine  Image. 
Then,  its  re-union  with  God.  Its  stand-point  is  the 
Cross.  The  channel  of  its  influences  is  the  Church.  Its 
agent  is  the  Holy  Spirit.  Its  rule  is  God's  most  holy 
Word.  Its  fountains,  for  the  spiritual  life,  are  the  holy 
Sacraments.     Its  atmosphere  is  holy  prayer. 

HI.  This  College  aims  to  he  a  Bulwark  of  the  Church. 
It  knows  no  other  way  to  Jesus  Christ.  It  knows  that 
there  is  no  salvation,  but  in  Him.  It  proposes  no  con- 
troversy. It  engages  in  no  rivalry.  It  is  a  Chuech 
College.  It  teaches  the  faith  of  the  Church.  It  sub- 
mits to  the  ministry  of  the  Church.  It  is  ordered  by 
the  discipline  of  the  Chui'ch.  It  rejoices  in  the  worship 
of  the  Church.  It  asks  no  questions,  of  the  children, 
that  are  brought  to  it.     It,  simply,  takes  them ;  and 


A   BULWARK   OF   THE   CHURCH.  13 

teaches  them,  as  it  has,  itself,  been  taught,  the  truth,  as 
it  is  in  Jesus :  and,  devoutly,  seeks  to  fit  them  for  the 
Church,  in  heaven,  by  the  divine  nurture,  and  holy  ad- 
monition, of  the  Church,  on  earth. 

IV.  TJiis  College  is  to  he  a  Stronghold.,  for  the  Rights^ 
and  Liberties.,  of  Man.  It  is  a  nursery,  for  young  Ame- 
ricans. It  stands  upon  the  Magna  Charta  of  the  Consti- 
tution. It,  annually,  commemorates,  as  its  two  secular 
festivals,  the  birthday  of  the  National  Independence, 
and  the  birth-day  of  the  Father  of  his  country.  In  the 
true  spirit  of  the  one,  and  the  beautiful  example  of  the 
other,  it  finds,  at  once,  the  principles  and  pattern  of  the 
true  freeman.  The  rights  of  man,  which  it  maintains, 
are  those  which  appertain  to  him,  as  the  redeemed  of 
God.  The  liberty,  which  it  inculcates,  is  the  liberty^ 
which  dwells  with  duty. 

For  the  attainment  of  the  ends  proposed,  in  the  foun- 
dation of  this  College,  its  reliance,  under  God,  is  upon 
thorough  scholarship,  strict  discipline,  and  daily  devotion. 

i.  In  Scliolarship.,  its  claims  are  broad  and  high.  It 
sweeps  the  circle  of  sound  learning.  It  admits  of  no 
alternatives,  and  of  no  option.  It  sets  a  standard  up, 
and  holds  to  it.  It  does  not  venture  to  array  itself 
against  the  experience  of  generations  and  of  centuries.  It 
holds  to  thorough  training,  in  the  ancient  languages,  in 
the  exact  sciences,  in  the  several  departments  of  physical 
research,  and  in  the  realm  of  intellectual  investigation. 
At  the  same  time,  it  meets  the*  case  of  men,  as  they  now 
are,  by  opening  the  doors  of  all  the  living  languages, 


14  A   CHRISTIAlSr    COLLEGE, 

whicli  commerce,  or  wliicli  literature,  commends,  for 
practical  acquirement ;  and  brings  all  talents  and  attain- 
ments within  tlie  reacli  of  daily  use,  by  their  continual 
adaptation  to  the  practices  of  popular  assemblies,  and 
to  the  exigencies  of  common  life.  It  requires,  in  all  its 
elementary  provisions,  the  strict  exactness  of  the  most 
efficient  diill ;  and,  in  its  higher  ranges,  gives  the  widest 
scope  for  all  the  fulness,  and  for  all  the  freedom,  which 
the  utmost  reach  of  fancy  can  attempt.  To  combine  the 
thoroughly  scholastic,  with  the  entirely  practical,  is,  in 
a  single  word,  its  clear  and  constant  aim. 

ii.  It  shrinTcs  not  from  the  full  avowal  of  the  Ancient 
Discipline.  It  has  no  favour  for  the  modern  theories 
of  self  government  in  children.  It  has  as  little  for  the 
hazardous  experiment  of  admitting  infancy  and  inex- 
perience to  what  is  called  "  a  knowledge  of  the  world." 
It  counts  on  seclusion,  and  serenity,  as  the  appropriate 
atmosphere  for  childhood,  and  for  youth.  It  holds  to 
the  primitive  practice  in  the  moral  training  of  the  young. 
With  these  convictions  it  isolates  its  pupils  from  the 
world.  It  closes  to  them  the  avenues  of  temptation, 
and  the  opportunities  for  extravagance.  And,  it  relies 
on  years,  and  study,  and  a  wholesome  atmosphere,  and 
holy  influences,  and  virtuous  examples,  to  establish,  in 
them,  the  habit  of  sobriety,  and  self-control ;  and,  vnth 
the  principles  of  grace,  to  arm  and  to  accomplish  them, 
as  soldiers  of  the  Cross,  to  endure  the  hardness  of  the 
warfare  of  the  world. 

iii.  And^  chief  2j^  it  relies,  for  the  attainment  of  its 
Ends,  upon  continual  Prayer,  and  the  Blessing  pledged  to 


A   BULWAEK   OF   THE   CHUECH.  15 

Worship.  All  human  means  are  ineffectual.  The  seed, 
however  freely  sown ;  the  soil,  however  tilled  and 
cultivated,  yield  nothing,  if  the  sun  withhold  his  shin- 
ing, and  the  rains  refuse  to  fall.  The  grace  of  God, 
assured  to  prayer,  and  promised  in  the  sacraments,  alone, 
can  reach  the  heart ;  and  soften  it,  in  penitence,  or  lift 
it  up,  in  piety.  In  vain,  Paul  plants.  In  vain,  Apollos 
waters.     It  is  God,  alone,  that  can  bestow  the  increase. 

It  will  be  seen,  at  once,  that,  to  carry  out  the  plans, 
and  to  attain  the  ends,  proposed,  there  must  be  human 
elements  and  influences,  proportioned  to  the  enterprise. 
The  College  needs  pecuniary  aid ;  it  requires  efficient 
men ;  it  relies  upon  the  confidence  of  parents. 

1.  To  furnish  grounds,  adapted  to  our  purposes,  in 
beauty,  as  in  magnitude ;  to  supply  buildings,  for  use, 
for  taste,  and  for  devotion ;  to  provide  the  teachers,  and 
the  instruments,  for  thorough,  high,  extensive,  teaching, 
must,  of  course,  be  far  beyond  the  reach  of  ordinary 
academic  income.  Endoimnents  are  demanded^  to  do  jus- 
tice to  the  case.  Provision  should  be  made,  for  an  in- 
creased, and  still  increasing,  patronage.  Foundations, 
broad  and  deep,  should  now  be  laid,  to  be  built  up,  by 
grateful  generations,  in  the  years  to  come ;  and  be  an 
honour  to  the  State,  and  a  blessing  to  the  land.  Four 
years  have  never  done  so  much,  for  any  College.  It  is 
for  those,  whom  God  has  made  trustees,  for  Him,  of  His 
unbounded  treasures,  to  determine,  if  the  points,  thus 
reached,  shall  be  secured ;  and  the  toil,  and  self  denial, 
and  self  sacrifice,  encountered,  in  their  attaimnent,  be 
made  the  sources  of  perennial  blessings. 


16 

2.  A  WorJs,  UJce  this,  so  large,  so  constant,  and  so 
comprehensive,  requires  strong-handed  and  warm-hearted 
Men.  It  cannot  be  task- work.  It  must  enlist  the  soul. 
No  salary  can  pay  tlie  watcMng,  and  the  labour,  which 
are  thus  requii'ed.  The  loving  heart  makes  its  own 
over-payment.  While  the  Great  Teacher  was  on  earth, 
He  had  no  place  where  to  lay  His  head.  And  the 
Apostles  went,  upon  their  errand,  of  instruction,  and 
salvation,  vdthout  a  scrip,  or  shoes.  Men,  of  the  mould 
of  the  Apostles ;  men,  that  follow  them,  as  they  did 
Christ,  are  needed  for  om*  work.  Such  men  are  hard  to 
find.  We  have  to  thank  God,  for  some  such ;  and  to 
pray  to  Him,  for  more. 

3.  The  perfect  Confidence  of  Parents  is  of  indispen- 
sable Necessity  to  such  a  College.  To  be  what  it  proposes, 
it  must  come  into  their  place.  They  must  confide  in  it. 
They  must  sustain  it.  They  must  co-operate  with  it. 
Failing  in  this,  they  waste  their  own  responsibility, 
while  they  defeat  and  deaden  ours.  We  undertake  no 
half  devotion,  and  we  are  contented  with  no  half-reliance. 
We  ask  the  unreserve  of  confidence,  as  but  the  just 
equivalent  for  unreserve  of  effort. 

For  four  years,  we  have  pursued,  with  constancy, 
and  carefulness,  the  path  of  earnest  duty.  God's  favour 
has  been  with  us.  And,  to-day,  He  crowns  us  with  His 
blessing.  Shall  I  be  pardoned,  if,  merging,  for  a  mo- 
ment, the  President,  in  the  man,  I  express  the  feelings, 
which  now  burst  my  heart,  in  David's  touching  words : 
"  He  that  now  goeth  on  his  way,  weeping,  and  beareth 
forth  good  seed,  shall,  doubtless,  come  again,  with  joy. 


A   BULWARK   OF   THE    CHUECII.  17 

and  bring  his  sheaves  with  him."  To  the  gracious 
God,  by  Whom  the  tears,  that  fell,  in  secret,  were  all 
noted,  be  the  glory  of  these  golden  sheaves  ! 

Beloved  Children,  whom  we  bring,  to-day,  with  melt- 
ing heart,  for  God  to  own  and  bless,  yon  are  the  first 
fruits,  as  we  trust,  of  annual  harvests,  which  shall  wave 
and  ripen  here,  till  seed-time  shall  return  to  earth,  no 
more.  Fondly,  and  fervently,  do  we  commend  you  to 
the  gracious  favour  of  the  God,  from  Whom  all  good- 
ness comes.  Passing,  to-day,  the  line  which  terminates 
your  pupilage,  may  you  be  filled,  with  all  the  graces, 
and  enriched,  Avith  all  the  gifts,  of  perfect  men  in  Jesus 
Christ.  May  you  go  out,  into  the  world,  strong  in  His 
strength,  to  conquer  in  His  Cross  ;  and,  faithful  through 
your  lives,  and  joyful  in  your  death,  may  you  be 
crowned,  for  conquests,  not  your  own,  through  the  un- 
bounded and  immortal  riches  of  redeeming  love  !  God 
of  the  spirits  of  all  flesh,  by  whom  Thy  servant  has  been 
honoured  to  suffer,  for  Thy  name,  accept  the  cheerful 
sacrifice ;  and,  for  the  dear  sake  of  Thy  beloved,  suffer- 
ing. Son,  return  it,  in  the  gracious  dew  of  countless 
and  eternal  blessings,  upon  these  dear  children ;  upon 
all  who  shall  succeed  them  here ;  upon  this  Christian 
College ;  and  upon  Thy  Holy  Church,  the  Spouse  and 
purchase  of  His  perfect  and  perpetual  love  :  and,  unto 
Thee,  ^vith  Him,  and  the  divine  and  Holy  Spirit,  shall 
be  given,  through  everlasting  ages,  the  honour,  and  the 
glory,  and  the  praise. 

VOL.  IV. 2 


II. 

THE  BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS, 

AT  THE 

*  SECOND  ANNUAL  COMMENCEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 


THE  DEVELOPEMENT  OF  THE  PRACTICAL,  IN  SUBOKDINATION  TO  THE 
SPIRITUAL  ;    THE  TRUE  END  OF  ACADEMIC  EDUCATION. 

Two  prejudices  prevail,  whicli  greatly  hinder  the 
just  estimate  of  Academic  Education.  That  it  is  not 
practical ;  and,  that  it  involves  the  risk  of  virtue.  I 
set  myself  against  them,  both.  I  deny,  that  they  are, 
at  all,  inherent,  in  the  case.     The  developement  of  the 

PeACTICAL,  in  SUBOEDDf ATION  TO  THE  SPIRITUAL,  IS  THE 
TRUE  IDEA  OF  AcADEMIC  EDUCATION.      I  do  UOt  Say,  that 

the  Practical  has  not  been  overlooked,  in  many  systems ; 
which  have  claimed  the  name.  I  do  not  say,  that  morals 
have  not  often  been  corrupted,  and  many  souls  been 
lost ;  in  places,  where  its  name  is  set.  But,  I  maintain 
that  it  has  been,  from  the  abuse  ;  not,  from  the  use.     I 

*  St.  Michael  and  AU  Angels,  A.  D.  1851. 


THE   DEVELOPEMENT   OF   THE   PKACTICAL.  19 

maintain,  tliat,  in  every  real  place  of  education  ;  in  every 
grove,  that  does  not  prostitute  the,  well-nigli  sacred, 
name,  of  Academus,  the  Practical  must  be  developed ; 
and  must  be  subordinated  to  the  Spiritual. 

I.  The  Peactical  must  be  developed.  Man  was 
created,  for  it.  Was  he  not  made,  in  His  image,  of 
whom  the  Son  hath  said,  in  these  sublimest  words,  "  My 
Father  worketh,  hitherto  ?  "  Was  he  not  put,  in  that 
fair  garden,  to  dress  it,  and  to  keep  it  ?  And,  when  the 
curse  had  fallen,  on  the  race,  for  sin,  was  it  not  prefaced, 
with  these  words,  "  In  the  sweat  of  thy  face,  thou  shalt 
eat  bread  ? "  Man  was  created,  for  the  Practical.  And, 
that  cannot  be  his  true  training,  by  which  the  Practical 
is  not  developed.  It  piled  the  Pyramids.  It  built  the 
Coliseum.  It  found  the  Apollo  Belvidere,  in  that  rough 
block  of  Parian  marble.  It  created  Hamlet,  Ariel,  Cor- 
delia. There  is  nothing,  that  it  has  not  done.  There 
is  nothing  that  it  cannot  do. 

The  Practical  must  be  developed.  Man  was  not  made 
for  sloth  and  inactivity ;  for  ease  and  luxm^y,  however 
harmless,  or  however  elegant.  Look  at  his  hands, 
adapted,  equally,  to  wield  the  pencil ;  to  guide  the 
plough  ;  to  hold  the  helm,  when  storms  bring  down  the 
skies.  Look  at  his  chest,  that  swells,  to  meet  the  shock 
of  battle ;  or  to  burst  oppression's  yoke.  Look  at  his 
eye,  to  flash  the  fires  of  genius  ;  or  to  frown  the  tyrant, 
from  his  throne.  Look  at  his  brow,  the  dome  of  loftiest 
thoughts,  of  tenderest  imaginings,  of  deepest,  most  in- 
domitable, determinations.     Is  there  an  element,  that  the 


20       THE  DEVELOPEJMENT  OF  THE  PE ACTIO AL, 

Practical,  in  mari,  has  not  made  subject  ?  Entlu'aUed 
tlie  air,  to  waft  Lis  ships.  Harnessed  the  steam,  to  drag 
his  cars.  And  tamed  the  lightning,  to  convey  his  mes- 
sasfes. 

The  Practical  inust  he  developed.  It  cannot  be,  by 
any  training  of  the  hands.  It  cannot  be,  by  any  out- 
ward energy,  or  skill.  It  cannot  be,  through  any  mere 
material  influences  or  agents.  When  Franklin  brought 
the  flash  do^vn,  fi'om  the  cloud,  was  it  the  kite  and  cord 
and  key,  that  did  it  ?  When  Davy  went  down,  mth 
buiTiing  lamp,  into  the  fire-damp  of  the  Cornish  mines ; 
and  made  that  "  dreadful  trade,"  secure,  was  it  the  virtue 
of  that  woven  web  of  wire  ?  And,  when  Daguen'e  had 
dij)ped  his  pencil,  in  the  sun,  and  made  the  light  paint 
its  own  pictures,  with  a  flash,  was  it  the  burnished  plate, 
that  won  the  triumph  I  The  Practical  is  inward  and 
invisible.  Newton's  sagacious  forecast,  of  the  laws  of 
gravity,  needed  the  falling  apple,  only,  for  an  illustration. 
The  teeming  brain  of  Watt  found,  in  the  simmering 
kettle,  l>y  the  fire,  but  the  occasion  of  the  triumph,  that 
has  well-nigh  banished  war,  from  all  the  earth.  And, 
"  the  world-seeking  Genoese  "  had  first  created,  in  his 
o^vn  great  heart,  the  Continent,  he  went  to  seek ;  and 
found. 

The  Practical  must  he  developed.  It  is  the  office  of 
true  education,  to  develope  it.  All  education  is  devel- 
opement.  It  creates  nothing.  It  su]3plies  nothing.  It 
but  brings  out  the  hidden  power,  and  disentangles  it, 
and  gives  it  freedom ;  and  the  electric  spark,  that  it  has 
waked,  shall  flash,  from  pole  to  pole ;  astonish  earth ; 


IN    SUBORDINATION   TO    THE   SPIEITUAL.  '21 

and  flood  the  heavens,  with  light.  What  it  achieved, 
in  Galileo  !  What  it  dared,  in  Milton  !  What  it  did, 
in  Shakspeare  !  "  Exhausted  worlds ;  and,  then,  im- 
agined new." 

The  education,  by  which  the  Practical,  in  man,  may 
be  developed,  must  be  thorough,  must  be  complete, 
must  be  liberal. 

1.  It  nhust  he  thorough.  It  must  begin,  from  the  be- 
ginning. It  must  lay  foundations.  It  must  build,  upon 
them.  The  Lord  hath  told  us,  what  a  house  would  be, 
upon  the  sand.  It  could  fare  no  better,  with  the  edu- 
cation, that  neglects  the  fundamentals.  There  can  be 
no  solidity,  no  certainty,  no  safety,  no  security.  As  if 
one  leaned,  upon  a  broken  reed ;  or  stepped,  upon  a 
dislocated  foot.  It  is  the  great  defect  of  education, 
that  it  is  not  thorough.  The  elements  are  not  secured. 
The  results  can  never  be  satisfactory.  Men  will  not 
give  the  time.  They  do  not  know,  that  it  would  be 
time  economized.  Besides,  with  whatever  use  of  time, 
in  after  stages,  the  issue  must  be  insecui^e,  and  unsatis- 
factory. As  if  one  should  build  a  pyramid,  on  piles. 
To  have  the  work  to  ok),  again,  the  next  half  century. 
As,  when  our  shij^s  of  war  have  been  constructed,  of 
green  timber ;  and  been  broken  up,  within  a  dozen 
years.  Time,  taken,  in  the  beginning,  is  time  saved, 
in  the  end.  Go,  but  so  far.  But,  go  so  far,  "with  cer- 
tainty. A  year,  devoted  to  the  elements,  will  be  seven 
years,  secured  to  the  results.  Would  you  avoid  daily 
mortification,  would  you  avoid  habitual  selfdistrust, 
would  you  avoid  continual  disappointment — I  appeal, 


22  THE   DEVELOPEMENT    OF   THE   PRACTICAL, 

witli  perfect  confidence,  to  those  about  me,  whose  sad 
experience,  I  describe — lay,  deep  and  strong,  the  ele- 
mentary foundations,  in  the  work  of  education.  No 
matter,  if  you  never  rise,  above  the  surface  of  the 
ground.  What  is  done,  has  been  done.  Done,  to  stand. 
Done,  to  stand  upon.  You  may  build  on  it,  hereafter ; 
it  may  be.  At  any  rate,  what  has  been  done,  you 
have.  As,  with  the  Cyclopean  builders.  The  stones 
were  rough.  The  work  was  rude.  But  they  were 
massive,  and  well  laid.  And  their  magnificence  re- 
mains ;  and  will,  while  any  thing  of  man's  remains. 

2.  It  mU'St  he  complete.  Who,  could  make  any  thing 
of  Mf  an  arch  ?  Or,  of  three  quarters  ?  Or,  nine 
tenths  ?  Would  it  bear  any  thing  ?  Would  it  stand, 
alone  ?  Would  it  be  an  arch  ?  The  mind  is  various, 
in  its  powers.  The  man  is  diverse  in  his  faculties. 
Their  true  developement  is  in  their  perfect  equilibrium. 
Only  so,  do  they  sustain  and  strengthen  one  another. 
Only  so,  do  they  display  the  beauty  of  their  just  pro- 
portions. There  never  was  a  greater  sham  than,  what 
is  called,  "  a  partial  course,"  in  education.  As  if  a 
torso  were  a  statue.  As  if  twoi  legs,  and  half  an  arm, 
would  make  a  man.  That  was  a  good  old  figure, 
which  our  fathers  used ;  the  Cyclopaedia :  the  circle  of 
the  sciences.  Could  any  one  take  pleasure,  in  a  semi- 
circle ?  Or,  in  any  segment  ?  And,  what  can  satisiy 
the  mind,  like  the  full-rounded  orb ;  the  only  j^erfect 
figure?  The  taste;  the  memory;  the  judgment;  the 
fancy ;  the  imagination ;  the  reasoning  powers :  these, 
and,  still  more  than  these,  combine,  to  make  the  man. 


IN   SUBOEDINATION   TO   THE   SPIEITUAL.  23 

And,  to  educate  a  part  of  tliein,  and  not  the  rest,  is 
to  produce  a  monster.  There  have  been  striking  things 
accomplished,  so ;  no  doubt.  As  men,  with  double 
joints,  do  feats  of  strength.  And  portraits  have  been 
painted,  vrith  the  mouth,  or  with  the  feet.  But  these 
are  rare  exceptions.  They  are  anomalous  and  mon- 
strous. They  may  surprise ;  but  cannot  satisfy.  They 
are  deficient,  in  the  elements  of  value.  In  harmony. 
In  naturalness.  And,  in  availability.  They  set  no 
precedent.  And  they  supply  no  pattern.  They  are 
for  avoidance ;  not  for  imitation.  They  tempt  dis- 
pleasure. They  suggest  disgust.  The  real  education 
educates  the  man,  in  all  his  faculties  and  powers.  De- 
velopes  him,  proportionally.  And,  makes  its  issues 
practical  and  permanent.  It  never  might  attempt  a 
flying  machine,  or  a  perpetual  motion.  It  has  accom- 
plished a  telescope,  a  steam  engine,  a  power  press.  It 
might  not  find  admission,  with  the  Malachite  and 
Porphyry,  which  Russia  sent,  to  the  great  London 
exhibition.  But,  if  the  broadest  field  were  to  be 
reaped,  within  the  briefest  time ;  or,  if  the  empire  of 
the  seas  were  to  be  successfully  contested,  it  would 
be  heard  from :  and  the  world  would  feel  it. 

3.  A7idy  finally,  it  must  he  liberal.  Man  is  not  all 
material.  He  has  a  mouth,  not  only,  but  a  mind. 
There  are  higher  pleasures  than  the  sense  can  measure. 
There  are  satisfactions  far  beyond  the  appetite.  The 
creations  of  the  pencil ;  the  ^vitcheries  of  music ;  the 
rapture  of  poetry ;  these  charm  the  fancy,  enthral  the 
feelings,  lap  the  spirit  in   Elysium.     They  vindicate 


24  THE   DEVELOPEMENT   OF   THE   PKACTICAL, 

the  immaterial  in  man ;  and  indicate  tlie  immortal. 
They  open  a  new  world,  with  richer  spoils,  than  that 
which  Christopher  Columbus  gave,  to  Leon  and  Castile ; 
the  world  of  the  imagination.  They  find  an  El  Dorado, 
such  as  Cortez  never  dreamed  of.  They  wing  their 
way,  up  to  "  the  highest  heaven  of  invention.''  They 
bring  down,  and  set,  among  our  household  gods,  the 
immortal  forms  of  Homer,  Plato,  Pindar,  JEschylus ;  of 
Spenser,  Shakspeare,  Dante,  Milton,  Schiller,  Words- 
worth. These,  the  true  masters  of  mankind.  The 
Poets,  that  is  to  say,  the  Makers,  among  men.  Pre- 
eminent, in  Poetry :  and,  so,  pre-eminently  Practical. 

II.  And  to  complete  the  true  idea  of  education,  the 
utmost  triumphs  of  the  Peactical  must  be  suboedi- 
NATED,  to  the  Spiritual.  All  that  is  practical  might 
perish.  Homer  might  not  have  been.  Shakspeare 
might  be  forgotten.  The  soul,  which  God  breathed 
into  the  clay,  which  He  had  moulded  into  human 
form ;  and,  which  the  Son  of  God  took  human  fonn, 
that  He  might  redeem,  regenerate,  and  reinstate, 
it,  in  its  primal  glory,  must  still  exist ;  might  still 
exult,  in  the  delights  of  conscious  vktue ;  might  imp 
its  pinions,  for  the  flight,  which  is  to  bear  it,  to  the 
bosom  of  its  God.  "  For  which  cause,"  in  the  fervent 
language  of  the  rapt  Apostle,  "  we  faint  not ;  but, 
though  our  outward  man  perish,  yet  the  inward  man 
is  renewed,  day  by  day.  For  our  light  affliction, 
which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh  for  us  a  far  more 
exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory ;  while  we  look, 


m    SUBOEDIJSrATION   TO   THE   SPIEITUAL,  25 

not  at  tlie  tilings  wliicli  are  seen,  but  at  the  things 
which  are  not  seen ;  for  the  things  which  are  seen  are 
temporal,  but  the  things  which  are  not  seen  are  eter- 
nal." ^- 

Belovecl  Children,  who  are  to  leave  my  hearth  and 
heart,  to-day,  in  the  five  years,  that  have,  now,  flitted 
by  us,  like  the  shadows,  on  the  mountain,  it  has  been 
"  my  heart's  desire,  and  prayer  to  God,"  to  realize,  in 
you,  that,  which  I  have,  thus  shadowed,  rather,  than 
have  sketched,  of  the  true  idea  of  education.  It  is 
for  you  to  prove,  in  the  rough  world,  in  which  you 
now  must  enter,  how  far  the  Practical  has  been 
developed,  in  you.  The  Judgment-day  will  show, 
how  far  the  Practical  has  been  subordinated  to  the 
Spiritual.  If  you  have  justified  our  ends  and  aims,  in 
your  behalf,  you  will  go  forth,  as  mek  And,  if  our 
prayers,  for  you,  are  answered,  you  will  be  accepted  at 
the  last,  through  the  dear  purchase  of  the  Cross,  as 
MEN  OF  Jesus  Cheist. 

Go  forth,  I  bid  you,  in  the  name  of  God  as  Men. 
As  men,  to  dare.  As  men,  to  do.  As  men,  to  bear. 
Men,  for  society.  Men,  for  your  country.  Men,  for 
the  Church.  So,  shall  you  stand,  at  last,  before  the 
world  of  men  and  angels,  as  the  men  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

i.  Go  forth,  as  Men,  to  dare.  Ours  is  a  stirring  age. 
The  Crusades  did  but  crawl,  in  the  comparison.  No 
age  has  won  such  triumphs.  By  no  age,  such  trophies 
been  se't  up.     The  plot  of  the  great  drama  of  our  nature 

*  2  Corinthians  iv.  IC-IS. 


26  THE   DEVELOPEMENT   OF   THE   PEACTICAL, 

thickens,  as  it  runs.  It  hastens  to  tlie  consummation. 
Years  do  tlie  work  of  ages.  And  the  hour-glass  meas- 
ures days.  See,  how  the  tides  of  commerce  set,  and 
swell,  and  surge,  from  shore  to  shore.  See,  how  the  light- 
ning flash  of  science  flames  the  sky,  from  pole  to  pole. 
See,  how  the  nations  of  the  world  are  rushing  into  mu- 
tual incorporation,  with  each  other,  with  a  speed,  which 
steam,  now,  fails  to  satisfy.  See,  how  the  virgin 
West,  bares  her  ftdl  bosom,  like  the  Roman  Daughter, 
to  refresh  and  re-invigorate  the  worn  and  wasted  East. 
It  is  an  age  of  "enterprize ;  intense,  indomitable,  unin- 
termitting.  And,  you,  that  are  to  mix  in  it,  must  mix 
in  it  as  men,  that  dare.  That  dare  to  trust  yom'selves, 
like  Cassius,  accoutred,  as  you  are,  to  its  tremendous 
torrent.  And,  if  the  will  of  God  be  so,  to  tui^n  against 
the  cataract ;  and 

"  buffet  it, 
With  lusty  sinews  ;  throwing  it  aside, 
And  stemming  it,  with  hearts  of  controversy." 

ii.  Go  forth^  as  Men^  to  do.  The  hive  of  human 
nature  has  cast  out  its  drones.  The  air  is  vocal,  with 
the  hum  of  action :  like  a  clover  field,  in  June.  The 
time  has  come,  of  which  the  Prophet  spake :  "Many 
shall  run  to  and  fro ;  and  knowledge  shall  be  increased." 
You  cannot  stand  still,  if  you  would.  They  that  do 
nothing,  will  be  swept  away ;  like  the  dry  branches, 
Vt^hen  the  equinox  is  up.  You  may  select  your  work ; 
but,  work,  you  must.  Agriculture.  Commerce.  Manu- 
factures. Letters.  Science.  The  healing  art,  with 
its    continual    charities.      The    noble    and   ennobling 


IN   SUBORDINATION   TO    THE   SPIEITUAL.  21 

practice  of  tlie  Law ;  wlien  noble  spiiits  practise  it. 
Tlie  infinite  and  inexhaustible  demands  of  education. 
The  Pastoral,  or  the  Missionary,  Cross.  Choose,  as 
God's  providence  determines  you.  And,  in  His  strength, 
go  forth  to  do ;  as  in  His  eye,  upon  His  world,  and 
with  His  heaven  above  you,  nearer  than  the  sky. 

iii.  A7id,  go  forfJi,  as  Men,  to  hear.  There  is  no 
Crown  without  a  Cross.  The  badge  of  oiu*  humanity 
is  suffering.  It  will  encounter  you  sometime,  some- 
where, somehow.  Be  not  afraid  to  meet  it.  Be  not 
averse  to  bear  it.  It  is  the  trial  of  your  spirit.  The 
Damascus  blade,  that  cleaves  the  iron  helmet,  has  been 
thrust,  red-hot,  among  the  ice.  That  "  old  unwedgea- 
ble,  and  gnarled  oak,"  was  hardened,  by  the  tempests, 
of  a  thousand  winters.  The  willow,  that  stands  bend- 
ing to  the  breeze,  will  do  for  baskets ;  but  has  no 
place,  in  a  ship.  "  Vincit  qui  patitur."  Only,  by 
suffering,  can  we  conquer.  The  bloodiest  Cross  achieves 
the  brio;htest  Crown, 

iv.  Men,  for  Society.  Be  foremost,  in  all  acts  and 
influences,  for  good.  Live,  ever,  by  the  Law  of  Love. 
Make  the  wide  world,  your  neighbourhood.  Hold  every 
man  your  l^rother,  that  your  heart  can  comfort,  or 
your  hand  can  help.  Be,  everywhere,  the  good 
Samaritans,  among  your  kind,  for  sufferers,  and  sin- 
ners. And,  in  the  utter  and  unpitying  sacrifice  of 
self,  follow  His  footsteps,  and  reflect  His  beauty,  and 
attain  His  blessing,  "  "Who  went,  about,  doing  good." 

V.  Men,  for  your  Country.  Not  men  of  any  party. 
Not,   men,   exclusively,   of    any   State.     Men    .of    the 


28  THE   DEVELOPEMENT   OF   THE   PEACTICAL, 

whole  Republic.  Men  of  tlie  Constitution.  Men  of 
tliis  Union,  now  and  forever,  one  and  indivisible.  No 
fierce  fanaticism  of  private  prejudice.  No  idle  phantom 
of  a  "  higher  law ;  "  which,  like  the  wild-fii^e  of  the  bog, 
is  never  found,  and  never  felt.  No  reckless  disregard 
of  national  obligations,  here ;  or  social  rights,  and 
social  claims,  abroad.  But,  that  pure  patriotism,  w^hich 
concentrates,  on  country,  the  love  of  human  kind : 
not  to  love  these,  the  less,  because  it  must  love  that, 
the  more ;  but,  that  the  focal  heat,  which  it  enkindles, 
on  the  hearth  of  home,  and  feeds,  and  fans,  and 
cherishes,  may  shed  its  cheering  light  and  soothing 
warmth,  on  all  the  world ;  and  draw  the  nations,  to 
each  other,  in  one  brotherhood  of  love. 

vi.  Men,  of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ,  purchased 
with  His  blood :  and  to  be  guarded,  if  need  be,  in  its 
pure  faith  and  holy  worship,  by  the  shedding  of  your 
own.  The  Church,  which  the  Aj)ostles  planted.  The 
Church,  for  which  the  martyrs  suffered.  The  Church, 
in  which  your  fathers  A^'orshipped.  The  Clim^ch,  in 
which  3'Our  infancy  was  cradled.  The  Church,  in 
which  yoiir  vows  of  manhood  have  been  paid.  The 
Church,  in  which  your  totteiing  age  may  find  its 
earthly  rest ;  and  wait,  in  it,  for  heaven.  The  Church, 
whose  sacred  dust  shall  consecrate  our  dust ;  and,  in 
whose  blessed  shadow,  we  shall  hoj^e  to  wake,  upon 
the  ResmTection  morning ;  and,  through  the  purchase 
of  the  Cross,  and  cleansing  of  its  blood,  stand  up,  the 
men  of  Jesus  Christ. 


IN   SUBORDINATIOJST   TO    THE    SPIRITUAL.  29 

"  The  King  a  seat  hath,  there  prepared, 
High,  on  eternal  base  upr eared, 

For  His  eternal  Son  : 
His  palaces  with  joy  abound; 
His  saints,  by  Him,  with  glory  crown'd. 
Attend  and  share  His  throne. 

"  Mother  of  cities  !  o'er  thy  head. 
Bright  peace,  with  healing  wings  outspread, 

For  evermore  shall  dwell ; 
Let  me,  blest  seat !  my  name  behold, 
Among  thy  citizens  enroll' d, 

And  bid  the  world  farewell !  " 


m. 

THE  BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS, 

AT  THE 

*  THIRD  ANNUAL  COMMENCEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 


MANNERS    MAKYTH    MAN. 

"Maistners  MAKYTH  MAN."  There  was  a  Bishop, 
that  was  filled  and  fired,  mth  a  desire  to  benefit  his 
kind.  He  was  of  poor  parentage.  His  opportunities 
of  education  had  been  small  and  few.  But,  he  had 
faithfully  improved  his  gifts.  And  he  attained  to  great, 
and  well-deserved,  influence  ;  the  greatest,  and  the  best 
deserved.  He  was  not  without  its  surest  tokens,  in  a 
wicked  world ;  malicious  and  vindictive  enemies.  But, 
he  escaped  their  clutches.  And  he  outlived  most  of 
them.  He  was  not  only  Bishop  of  a  large  and  powerful 
diocese ;  but  Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England ;  and, 
for  a  long  period,  scarcely  second  to  the  King,  in  in- 
fluence, with  the  State.  Yet,  his  noblest  memorials 
are  the  two  Colleges,  which  he  founded  and  endowed, 
at  Winchester,  and  at  Oxford;  and  the  Cathedral, 
which  he  rebuilt  at  "Winchester.     It  was  not  till  he  had 

*  St.  Michael  and  All  Angels,  A.  D.  1852. 


MANNERS   MAKYTH   MAN.  31 

earned  it,  tliat  lie  used  a  coat  of  arms.  And,  when  lie 
did,  tlie  motto  was,  "  Manners  makyth  manr  It  was 
a  teacMng  text.  And  Ms  life  was  its  best  commentary. 
It  is  William  of  Wykeham,  Lord  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
of  whom  I  have  been  speaking. 

I  have  taken  his  motto,  for  my  theme,  to-day, 
"  Manners  mahytli  many  A  theme,  in  its  whole  extent, 
too  wide  for  any  one  occasion.  Especially,  for  this ; 
which,  into  a  few  hours,  crowds  so  much.  Burke  takes 
his  pitch  from  it,  and  gives  some  notion  of  its  volume, 
in  these  few  sentences,  fi'om  his  first  letter,  "  on  a  Begi- 
cide  Peace."  "  Manners  are  of  more  importance  than 
laws.  Upon  them,  in  a  great  measure,  the  laws  depend. 
The  law  touches  us,  but,  here  and  there ;  and,  now  and 
then.  Manners  are  what  vex  or  soothe,  corrupt  or  pu- 
rify, exalt  or  debase,  barbarize  or  refine  us,  by  a  constant, 
steady,  uniform,  insensible,  operation ;  like  that  of  the 
ail',  we  breathe  in.  They  give  their  whole  form  and 
colour,  to  our  lives.  According  to  their  quality,  they 
aid  morals,  they  supply  them,  or  they  totally  destroy 
them."  And,  in  another  place,  with  a  still  widel'  range. 
"  Men  are  not  tied,  to  one  another,  by  papers  and.  seals. 
They  are  led  to  associate,  by  resemblances,  by  conformi- 
ties, by  sympathies.  It  is  with  nations,  as  with  indi- 
viduals. Nothing  is  so  strong  a  tie  of  amity,  l^etween 
nation  and  nation,  as  correspondence  in  laws,  customs, 
manners,  and  habits  of  life.  They  have  more  than  the 
force  of  treaties,  in  themselves.  They  are  obligations 
written  in  the  heart.  They  approximate  men  to  men, 
without  their  knowledge  ;  and  sometimes,  without  their 


32  MANNERS   MAKYTH   MAK 

intentions.  The  secret,  unseen,  "but  irrefragable,  l^ond 
of  habitual  intercourse,  holds  them  together  ;  when  their 
perverse  and  litigious  nature,  sets  them  to  equivocate, 
scuffle  and  fight,  even  about  the  terms  of  their  "written 
obligations." 

It  needs  but  moderate  acquaintance  "with  mankind, 
to  know,  that  this  is  so.  But  for  the  Spartan  manners, 
three  hundred  men  would  not  have  held  Thermopylae. 
Not  till  the  largesses  and  games  of  theii'  designing 
tyi'ants  could  sway  the  manners  of  the  people,  that  were 
once  Republicans,  was  the  old  Roman  heart  entirely 
eaten  out ;  till  they  became,  what  one,  aptly,  calls  them, 
"  Italians  of  Rome."  And,  to  come  nearer  home,  and 
see  ourselves  in  truth's  unflattering  mirror,  how  have 
the  men  of  this  republic  changed,  with  their  manners  : 
until  the  Adamses,  the  Hancocks,  the  Franklins,  and 
the  Putnams  are  as  rarely  reproduced,  as  theii'  stern 
virtues,  their  straight-forward  speech,  and  all  their  old, 
rude,  rough,  and  racy,  ways.  The  question,  once,  was, 
"  Is  he  honest,  is  he  capable,  is  he  faithful  to  the  Con- 
stitution ? "  The  question,  now,  is, "  Can  he  be  elected  ? " 
The  Constitution  contemplates,  for  the  President  of  these 
United  States,  the  man,  whom  all  the  people,  by  their 
special  representatives,  in  their  separate  councils,  held  in 
every  State — held,  on  the  same  day,  through  them  all, 
that  none  may  know  the  chosen  of  another,  till  its  choice 
is  made, — freely  and  spontaneously  choose.  The  prac- 
tice is,  to  elect  one  of  the  two,  whom  two  Conventions, 
unkno"\?\Ti  to  the  Constitution,  and  altogether  iiTespon- 
sible,  may  succeed  in  beating,  screwing,  moulding,  lick- 


MANJSTEKS    MAKYTH   MAN.  33 

ing,  into  that  shape,  which  they  shall  deem,  the  most 
available.  Truly,  the  crucible,  in  all  its  ranges,  through 
alchymy  and  chemistry,  turns  out  no  stranger  trans- 
formations, than  are  wrought,  by  manners.  And,  on 
what  a  scale !  The  morals  of  a  people ;  the  freedom  of 
a  nation  ;  the  wealth,  the  power,  the  grandeur,  the  ex- 
istence, of  a  State ! 

But,  I  must  circumscribe  my  range.  I  am  to  deal 
with  individuals,  now.  This  is  the  civil  birth-day  of 
fourteen  young  men.  To-day,  they  leave  the  shade  of 
academic  groves,  to  bear  and  brave  the  heat  of  open  day. 
They  drop  the  College,  to  assume  the  manly,  gown. 
We  have  all  seen,  how  well  and  gracefully  they  wore 
the  one ;  and  we  all  know,  how  they  came  to  wear  it, 
so.  It  is  of  infinitely  more  moment,  that  they  wear  the 
other,  gracefully  and  well :  and,  what  is  now  said,  as 
their  Alma  Mater's  parting  words,  must  tend  to  that 
result.  It  may  be,  that,  as  before,  so,  now,  reluctant 
nature  will  recalcitrate.  That,  as  they  chafed  and  fret- 
ted, at  the  *  discipline,  which,  now,  they  bless,  that 
brought  them  on,  thus  far,  successfully ;  so,  they  may 
chafe  and  fret  at  that,  which  is  to  curb  them,  now.  But, 
it  must  still,  be  so.     It  is  stern  nature's  unrelenting  law. 

"  Qui  cupit  optatam  cursu  contiiigere  metam 
Multa  tulit  fecitque  puer." 


*  0  Philotheus,  you  cannot  enough  thank  God,  for  the  order  of  the  place  you 
live  in,  where  there  is  so  much  care  taken,  to  make  you  a  good  Christian,  as  well 
as  a  good  scholar ;  where  you  go  so  frequently  to  prayers,  every  day  in  the 
Chapel,  and  in  the  School ;  and  sing  hymns  and  psalms  to  God,  so  frequently  in 
your  chamber,  and  in  the  Chapel,  and  in  the  Hall ;  so  that  you  are,  in  a  manner, 
brought  up,  in  a  perpetuity  of  prayer. — Bishop  Ken,  to  a  Winchester  Scholar. 

VOL.  IV.  — 3 


34  MANNEES    MAKYTH   JIAN. 

i.  "  Mankees  MAKYTH  MAJST."  He  is  iiot  suc\  hy 
hirth.  Human,  he  is  ;  and,  so,  potentially,  a  man.  But, 
that  is  all.  Look  at  it,  this  way ;  and,  then,  that  way  ; 
and,  then,  this  way,  again  :  as  often,  as  you  please.  It, 
still,  is  true.  A  wise  man  has  been,  oftentimes,  the 
father  of  a  fool.  A  good  man,  of  a  knave.  A  brave 
man,  of  a  coward.  The  blood  came  down :  but,  not  the 
man,  in  it.  He  bore  his  father's  name :  but,  that  was 
all.  Just  as  he  took  the  name  of  man,  by  being  born 
of  human  parents.  I  do  not  say,  that  it  is  often  so.  I 
do  not  think  it  is.  That  it  is,  ever,  meets  the  whole 
case.  It  will  be  of  little  use,  to  know  the  exception, 
when  too  late  to  cure  it.  It  is  enough  to  know,  birth 
does  not  make  the  man.  It  is  of  the  first  importance, 
that  it  be  known,  in  time. 

ii.  "  Mannees  MAKYTH  MAisT."  He  is  not  such,  hy  m- 
tellectual  gifts.  Devils  have  these,  in  larger  store,  than 
men.  Yet,  they  are  devils,  still.  And  men,  with  nat- 
ural endowments,  "  but  a  little  lower  than  the  angels," 
have  let  them  waste,  and  rust,  and  rot ;  or,  even  worse 
have  turned  them  to  such  awful  uses,  that  they  seemed 
to  be  incarnate  devils.  And,  so,  in  their  degree,  through 
all  the  lower  ranges  of  worthlessness  and  wickedness. 
Nor  does  the  improvement  of  his  intellectual  gifts,  yet, 
make  the  man.  When  Bacon  uttered  that  celebrated 
aphorism,  "  Knowledge  is  power,"  he  obviously  meant 
to  leave  it,  as  it  were,  in  blank :  that,  so,  the  nature  of 
the  knowledge  might  decide  the  uses  of  the  power. 
For,  so,  in  fact,  it  is.  There  is  a  knowledge,  which  is  a 
curse ;  as  truly  as  a  knowledge,  which  is  a  blessing.     A 


MANNERS   MAKYTH   MAN.  35 

"  knoAvledge,  wliicli  causetli  to  err ;  "  and  a  knowledge, 
"  wliicli  maketli  wise  unto  salvation."  The  knowledge, 
of  no  account ;  but,  in  tliat  to  whicli  it  leads.  And, 
yet,  tlie  medium,  to  us,  through  which,  evil  comes.  As 
the  fruit  of  "  the  tree  of  knowledge  of  good  and  evil " 
was  that,  "  whose  taste  brought  death  into  the  world, 
and  all  our  woe." 

iii.  "  Mannees  makyth  man."  He  is  not  such,  hy 
circumstances.  Tacitus  finely  says,  "  Res,  stultorum 
magister."  It  is  over  fools,  that  circumstances  get  the 
mastery.  A  truth,  too  fine,  for  common  minds  to  catch. 
Yet,  if  it  be  not  so,  there  is  an  end  of  human  freedom. 
For  circumstances  is  but  a  longer  word,  for  fate ;  and, 
one  less  invidious,  for  necessity.  We  are  but  atoms  in 
the  atmosphere  of  space.  And  Plato,  Dante,  Shakspeare 
have  but  to  whirl,  in  vortices,  forever.  Who  will  be- 
lieve it,  that  looks  practically,  upon  life  ?  Who  will 
believe  that  Csesar  crossed  the  Rubicon,  under  the  force 
of  circumstances  ?  Or  Napoleon  marshalled  the  field 
of  Waterloo  ?  Or  Wellington  won  it,  without  Blucher  % 
Or  Washington  achieved  that  midnight  ferry,  through 
the  freezing  Delaware  ?  Or  Jackson  piled  the  cotton 
bags,  that  saved  New  Orleans  ?  Or  Clay  conceived  the 
Compromise,  that  has  secured  the  Union  ?  Men,  that 
are  men,  make  their  own  circumstances.  In  all,  w^e 
reverently  own  an  over-ruling  God.  A  God,  Who 
made  us,  and  Who  owns  us,  free.  Whom  we  dethrone, 
when  we  imply,  that  circumstances  make  a  man.  They 
cannot  even  make  a  circumstance. 

"  Manners  makytii  man."     It  might  be  freely  ren- 


36  MANNEES   MAKYTH   MAN. 

dered,  a  man  is,  as  he  behaves.  It  is  not,  wlio  Ms  father 
was.  It  is  not,  wliat  his  talents  and  attainments  are. 
It  is  not,  what  lie  is,  in  circumstances.  These  are  all 
accidents :  not,  of  the  essence.  It  is  the  way  he  has 
himself      It    is   his   behaviour.      "  Mannees   makyth 

MAN." 

1.  He  is  a  man,  that  hears  himself  ivith  gentleness. 
The  vulgar  notion  is  not  so.  Noise  is,  with  some,  an 
argument  for  greatness.  As  when  the  English  troops 
first  landed,  the  Chinese  thought  to  frighten  them,  by 
hideous  roarings,  as  they  rolled  down  hill.  But  greatest 
things  are  stillest.  The  sun  illuminates  the  world,  in 
silence.  The  planetary  orbs  revolve,  in  silence.  The 
giant  oak  grows  up,  in  silence.  The  thoughts,  that 
kindle  nations,  glow  in  silence.  The  equipoise  of  real 
greatness  holds  itself,  in  perfect  silence  The  truest  man 
will  be  the  most  a  woman  ;  in  serenity,  in  gentleness, 
in  tenderness,  in  lovingness.  No  ^dolence.  No  rough- 
ness. No  severity.  So  ready  to  forgive.  So  willing 
to  forbear.  So  able  to  endure.  As  the  Apostle,  in  that 
speaking  j^icture  of  a  man :  "  Let  all  bitterness  and 
wrath  and  anger  and  clamour  and  evil  speaking,  be  put 
away  from  you,  with  all  malice ;  and  be  ye  kind  one  to 
another,  tender-hearted,  forgiving  one  another,  even  as 
God,  for  Christ's  sake,  hath  forgiven  you." 

2.  He  is  a  man,  that  hears  himself  with  cordialness. 
It  is  a  world  in  a  word.  And  that  world,  the  heart. 
As  if  it  were  heartliness,  or  heartfalness.  A  little  more, 
even,  than  the  good  old,  heartiness,  which  has  come 
do^vn  to  us  from  our  whole-hearted  forefathers.     A  man 


MANNEES    MAKYTH   MAN.  37 

of  reserves.  A  man  of  affectations.  An  artificial  man. 
A  superficial  man.  Tliese  have  but  to  be  lieard  of,  to 
be  hated.  And,  yet,  in  the  world,  they  have  a  place. 
Nay,  in  the  world,  they  have  had  sway.  The  Chester- 
fields, the  Buckinghams,  the  Richelieus,  the  Croniwells. 
But,  not  with  men.  With  fanatics,  perhaps.  Certainly, 
with  coui^tiers.  Sycophants,  in  either  case.  But,  not 
with  men.  Men  ask  a  heart.  And  they  must  feel  it. 
And,  when  they  do,  their  own  beats,  with  it.  And, 
when  the  heart-swell  rises,  in  a  nation,  or  a  people,  that 
are  wronged,  or  that  see  wrong,  or  that  forecast  wrong  ; 
it  were  easier  to  stand  against  the  deepest  ground-swell 
that  was  ever  moved,  in  the  blue  deepness  of  the  multi- 
tudinous sea.  There  is  but  one  born  ruler,  whom  all 
men  love  to  own.  It  is  the  heart-man.  And  his  sway 
is  boundless  as  the  atmosphere  :  for  it  is  felt  as  little ; 
and  extends  as  far. 

3.  He  is  a  man^  that  hears  liimself  loith  manliness. 
There  are  words,  that  cannot  be  explained.  As  there 
are  acts  and  ways,  which  speak  to  every  heart.  It  is 
because  the  race  sprung  from  one  Hand ;  and  took  the 
imprint  of  its  Prototype.  And,  so,  there  linger,  in  it, 
instincts  of  the  true  and  real  and  eternal,  which  are 
never  false,  and  never  fail  The  rudest  tribes  quail,  at 
the  presence  of  a  man ;  as  no  ferocious  beast  can  stand 
the  human  eye.  And  they  who  have  unmade  them- 
selves, in  the  unworthy  tamperings  of  the  political 
arena,  or,  in  the  heartless  round  of  fashionable  folly  and 
frivolity,  still  recognize  and  feel  and  own  a  man. 


38  MANNEES   MAKYTH   MAN. 

"  Is  there,  for  honest  poverty, 

That  hangs  his  head,  and  a'  that  ? 
The  coward  slave,  we  pass  him  by  ; 

We  dare  be  poor,  for  a'  that." 
"  The  rank  is  but  the  guinea-stamp  : 

The  man's  the  gowd,  for  a'  that." 

"  A  king  can  mak'  a  belted  knight, 

A  Marquis,  Duke,  and  a'  that ; 
But  an  honest  man's  aboon  his  might : 

Guid  faith,  he  mauna  fa'  that." 
"  The  pith  of  sense  and  pride  o'  worth 

Are  higher  ranks,  than  a'  that." 

"  Then,  let  us  pray,  that  come  it  may, 
As  come  it  will,  for  a'  that ; 
That  sense  and  worth,  o'er  all  the  earth, 
May  bear  the  'gree,  for  a'  that. 
For  a'  that,  and  a'  that. 

Its  coming  yet,  for  a'  that, 
That  man  to  man,  the  world  a'  o'er, 
Shall  brothei-s  be,  for  a'  that."  * 

Beloved  cliildi^en  of  my  house  and  of  my  heart,  I  send 
you  out,  to-day,  in  God's  name,  to  youi'  parts  and  duties, 
in  the  world,  with  the  inestimable  patrimony  of  these  in- 
domitable principles.  You  have  been  nurtured  in  them, 
here.  You  have  lived  and  grown,  upon  them.  You 
are  men,  by  them.  "  Maishsters  maktth  man."  Year 
after  year  have  I  pursued  you,  mth  love's  keenest  eye. 
They  know  not  love,  who  tell  us,  she  is  blind.  A  fond, 
false,  faithless  love,  that  fawns  and  flatters,  to  deceive  and 
to  betray,  may  fein  a  blindness,  Avhich  it  does  not  feel. 

*  Burns. 


MAIOTEES   MAKYTH   MAN.  39 

But,  there  is  no  vision  like  the  heart's,  that  truly 
loves.  None,  that  can  see  so  far  the  very  creeping 
shadow  of  a  fault  or  failing,  that,  but,  may  be.  And  it 
is  due  to  you  to  say,  that  on  such  scrutiny,  as  only  love 
can  institute, — in  some  of  you,  beginning,  almost,  from 
your  birth  ;  in  all  of  you,  continued,  through  a  period 
of  three,  four,  five,  six  or  seven  years — I  commit  you, 
with  a  perfect  confidence  in  you,  God  being  yoiu*  helper, 
to  the  changing  chances  of  the  world.  Go  on,  fi'om  this 
day,  in  the  gentleness,  the  cordialness,  the  manliness, 
which,  to  your  Alma  Mater's  prayers,  the  God  of  grace 
has  granted  you ;  and  the  world  shall  take  account  of 
you,  as  men.  You  shall  be  seen,  as  men,  in  the  broad 
open  light  of  truth  and  honour.  You  shall  be  felt,  as 
men,  in  the  resistless  unction  of  sincerity  and  earnest- 
ness. You  shall  be  owned,  as  men,  in  your  deep  foot- 
prints on  the  adamant  of  immortality ;  and,  better  far 
than  that,  in  the  sympathy,  the  confidence,  the  affection, 
the  devotion,  of  all  true  and  loving  hearts.  That  must 
needs  be  a  saddened  heart,  that  sends,  in  one  day,  four- 
teen sons,  into  "  the  bivouac  of  life."  But,  what  a 
proud  and  happy  father,  to  have  fourteen  such,  to  send. 
Go  :  and  the  Lord  be  with  you  ! 


IV. 

THE  BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS, 

AT   THE 

*  FOURTH  ANNUAL  COMMENCEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 


THE    KIPE    SCHOLAR. 


"  He  was  a  scliolar,  and  a  ripe,  and  good,  one."  I 
never  heard  or  read  these  words,  mthout  a  strong  sen- 
sation of  approval  and  delight.  Next  to  the  spiritual 
graces,  on  which  Heaven  depends ;  and  the  domestic 
blessings,  by  which  life  seems  cheated  of  the  curse ;  to 
win,  what  they  describe,  was  my  first  thought,  for  years. 

But  that  is  jDersonal  and  past.  And,  now,  "■  the  sere 
and  yellow  leaf,"  on  which  my  life  has  fallen,  finds  its 
best  compensation  in  the  attempt  to  realize,  in  others, 
what  I  might  not  be,  myself. 

"  He  was  a  scholar,  and  a  ripe,  and  good,  one." 
they  are  a  part  of  that  inimitable  summing  up  of  Car- 
dinal Wolsey's  character,  which  Shakspeare  puts  into 
the  mouth  of  Grifiith,  gentleman  Usher  to  Queen  Catha- 
rine. They  suggest  the  theme  of  what  I  mean  to  say, 
to-day. 

*  St.  Michael  and  All  Angels,  A.  D.  1853. 


THE   KIPE   SCHOLAR.  41 

THE    RIPE    SCHOLAR: 

WHAT  IT  IS  ; 

HOW    IT    COMES  ; 
WHAT   COMES    OF   IT. 

What  it  is  to  he  a  rijoe  scholar,  we  shall  readily  per- 
ceive, if  we  pursue,  and  trust,  the  figure.  "We  fail  to 
get  the  use  of  language,  by  our  unwillingness  to  follow 
it.  Who  has  not  schoolday  memories  of  his  father's 
orchard  ?  How,  when  the  flower-bud  had  opened,  and 
the  blossom  set,  and  the  small  green  bullet  grown,  and 
flushed,  and  mellowed,  in  the  sun,  till  all  its  juices  were 
concocted  into  nectar,  and  all  the  air  was  fragrant  with 
its  smell,  the  fall  ripe  apple  fixed  his  truant  eye,  and 
melted,  in  his  eager  mouth.  It  was  the  joy  of  moments  : 
but  the  memory  of  years.  What  a  contrast,  with  the 
acrid  hardness  of  the  unripe  fruit !  And  how  unlike 
the  tastelessness  of  the  poor  lingerer,  upon  the  boughs  ! 
In  the  fruit,  alike,  and  in  the  scholar,  "  time  and  the 
hour  "  have  done  their  work.  It  was  a  noble  nature. 
It  was  subjected  to  all  kindly  influences.  It  was  devel- 
oped. It  matured.  It  mellowed.  The  rough  in  it  was 
softened.  The  hard  in  it  grew  genial.  The  harsh  was 
mild.  The  Virgilian  epithet  is  mitia :  "  mitia  poma." 
And  the  whole  essence  was  subdued  and  sweetened,  till 
it  melted,  in  the  mouth ;  or,  on  the  heart. 

A  ripe  scholar  !  What  an  aroma,  in  the  phrase  ! 
How  it  suggests  the  honeyed  cluster  !  How  it  breathes 
of  the  rare-ripe  peach  !  And  how  its  flavour  lingers, 
when  all  theirs  is  gone !  And  how  it  lives  in  the 
memory !     And,  how,  when  it  has  delighted  its  own 


42  THE   EIPE   SCHOLAR. 

generation,  it  goes  down,  to  after  ages,  to  be  tlie  sandal- 
wood of  immortality.  The  multitude  of  men  confound 
a  pedant,  witli  a  scholar.  As  well  expect  a  pear,  in  a 
persimmon.  The  one,  rough,  rugged,  repulsive.  The 
other,  sweet,  liquid,  luscious.  There  is  a  vulgar  preju- 
dice against  much  learning.  Festus  had  a  touch  of  it, 
when  he  charged  madness,  as  its  consequence,  upon  St. 
Paul.  But,  your  half-learned  are  in  far  more  danger. 
The  men  of  balanced  minds,  the  men  of  equable  dis- 
course, the  men  whose  faculties  and  functions  are  in 
tune,  are  they,  in  whom  a  full  and  accurate  scholarship 
has  set  its  harmonies.  How  the  ripe  scholarship  of 
Shaksj^eare  breathes  through  all  the  wondrous  world  of 
his  creation  !  How  it  paints  the  j^ictm'ed  page  of 
Spenser  !  And  how  it  weaves  its  cloth  of  gold,  from 
Milton's  magic  web.  And,  yet,  it  is  not  magnitude,  so 
much  as  mastery,  of  learning,  that  marks  the  ripeness  of 
the  scholar.  The  ripe  scholar  is  sure  of  wdiat  he  has. 
Sure,  that  he  has  it ;  and  sui'e,  that  he  can  use  it.  And 
it  grows,  by  use.  And,  as  it  grows,  is  more  available, 
for  use.  The  men  that  have  most  widely  ruled,  in 
human  hearts,  have  oftentimes  been  such,  by  their  mere 
skilful  use  of  but  a  stop,  or  two,  in  the  great  instrument 
of  human  speech.  As  Addison,  and  Goldsmith,  and  our 
ripest,  mellowest,  Irving,  whose  simple  flute-notes  thrill 
the  heart-strings,  through ;  and  have  made  hearts  and 
hearthstones  vocal  with  delight,  which  more  ambitious 
strains  could  never  find. 

Hoio  does  it  come^  then,  this  ripe  scliolarsMp  f    Not 
as  a  natural  gift.     Genius  may.     Eloquence  may.    "  The 


THE   EIPE   SCHOLAK.  43 

vision  and  the  faculty  divine  "  of  the  true  poet  may. 
A  great  meclianical  developement,  or  a  great  military. 
But,  not  ripe  scliolarslii}^.  There  must  be  time.  There 
must  be  opportunity,  found  or  made.  There  must  be 
interest.  There  must  be  earnestness.  There  must  be 
care.  There  must  be  culture.  There  must  be  thought. 
There  must  be  study. 

"  Exemplaria  Graeca, 
Nocturna  versate  manu,  versate  diurna." 

Above  all,  and  before  all,  must  be  the  love  of  it. 
And  the  love  of  it  will  find,  or  make  the  rest.  But  it 
must  be  young  love,  first  love,  heart  love.  It  Avas  the 
first  spring  shower,  that  left  the  snow-A\Teath  of  the 
cherry  bloom,  behind  it,  on  the  trees.  And  the  coy  blush 
of  the  peach  blossom  was  but  started  by  the  dalliance 
of  the  earliest  zephyi*.  A  cold  and  sullen  spring  is  fatal 
to  the  fruit.  And  the  mind,  that  is  not  early  wooed  to 
the  pursuits  of  scholarship,  will  find  small  favour  with 
the  Nine.  And,  oh,  Avhat  overpayment,  in  their  early, 
ardent,  love  !  What  rescue  from  the  slavery  of  sense  ! 
What  reservation  of  the  powers  of  mind,  for  their  best 
uses !  What  redemption  of  the  time,  from  loss,  and 
waste,  and  worse  !  What  communion,  with  the  wise 
and  good,  of  every  age,  and  every  land  !  What  high 
pui'suits !  What  pm^e  delights !  What  rich  attain- 
ments !  And  Avhat  treasured  recollections  !  Plappiest 
of  boys,  is  he,  who,  earliest,  yields  himself  to  these 
serene  attractions  of  the  mind :  and,  in  the  love  of  let- 
ters, finds   his  earliest  love.     And   happiest,  they,  of 


44  THE   KIPE   SCHOLAR. 

parents,  wlio  are  wise  enoiigli  to  know,  that,  far  before 
all  wealth,  all  station,  all  that  men  regard  as  getting 
forward  in  the  world,  is  such  a  taste,  and  its  indulgence, 
for  their  child. 

And  what  comes  of  this  ripe  scliolarsMp  f  In  its 
possessor,  an  intense  delight,  that  deepens  every  day. 
To  him,  the  world  of  language  opens  all  its  stores,  with 
Californian  prodigality.  Not  a  dust,  that  has  not  gold 
in  it.  And  diamonds,  more  than  words.  To  him,  no 
language  can  be  dead.  He  multiplies  himself,  in  them. 
In  every  new  one,  that  he  masters,  he  is  a  man,  the 
more.  And  the  more  numerous  the  tributaries,  that  he 
makes,  all  the  more  music,  to  his  ear,  all  the  more  magic, 
to  his  heart,  the  native  tongue,  in  which  his  mother 
taught  him  how  to  pray.  The  ripe  scholar  may  not  be 
a  teacher,  by  profession.  And,  yet,  he  teaches,  every- 
where, and  every  one.  And  no  one  dreams,  the  while, 
that  he  is  teaching.  They  seem  only  thinking,  with 
him.  He  may  not  be  an  author.  But  his  trifles  will 
be  treasures.  And  his  letters,  such  as  might  have 
dropped  from  Cicero's,  or  Evelyn's,  or  Arnold's.  And, 
as  to  what  the  world  calls  working  men,  and  has  relied 
on  most  implicitly,  to  do  her  work,  and  not  been  dis- 
appointed in  it ;  when  the  chiefest  of  them,  in  their 
several  departments  and  vocations,  have  been  summoned, 
how  many  of  them  betray  the  flavour  of  the  ripest,  mel- 
lowest, scholarship !  A  Wolfe  and  a  Wellesley,  in 
arms.  A  Davy  and  a  Humboldt,  in  science.  A  Rey- 
nolds and  an  Alston,  in  art.  A  Lyndhurst  and  a  Cole- 
ridge, at  the  bar.     A  Pitt  and  a  Peel,  in  the  Senate 


THE    EIPE    SCIIOLAK.  45 

House.  Not  second,  to  tlie  very  first  of  all  of  them,  our 
Choate,  our  Everett,  our  Webster  ! 

Beloved  children,  the  hour,  that  conies  to  eveiy 
loving  heart,  has  come,  at  last,  to  ours.  Before  its  sands 
are  all  run  out,  a  few  brief  words  become  our  parting, 
and  should  crown  our  love.  The  sacred  bond,  of  teach- 
er and  of  pupil,  which  so  long  has  held  us,  has  been 
made  more  sacred,  by  the  Providential  orderings,  which 
our  relation  has  involved.  It  is  as  much  my  pleasure, 
as  it  is  dutiful  to  you,  to  say,  that  never,  for  one  mo- 
ment, have  you  failed  me,  in  what  loving  fathers  count 
upon,  from  loving  children.  Nor,  in  the  contemj)lation 
of  your  progress,  in  all  liberal  arts,  and  every  manly 
virtue,  has  the  first  shadow  of  regret,  for  all  the  past, 
fallen  on  my  heart.  These  are  strong  words,  to  say. 
But  I  have  weighed  them  well.  And  here,  deliberately 
pronounce  them,  in  the  face  of  God  and  man. 

Beloved  children,  you  have  well  and  faithfully  ful- 
filled the  expectations  of  your  Alma  Mater.  She  sends 
you  from  her,  with  a  full  and  fervent  blessing.  Go  to 
be  comforts  to  your  homes ;  the  servants  of  your  coun- 
try ;  the  benefactors  of  your  kind.  Be  men.  Be  free 
men.  Be  free  men  of  the  Union.  If  you  fail  here,  you 
must  disown  her  lineage.  You  must  disavow  her  womb. 
To  be  a  slave,  to  be  a  traitor,  to  be  the  agent  or  the 
lover,  of  disunion,  you  must  forget  that  you  were  nur- 
tured at  her  bosom ;  and  deny  that  you  were  folded  in 
her  arms. 

Beloved  children,  you  go  out,  to-day,  from  the  serene 
and  sacred  shadow  of  the  Altar  of  the  Cross.     Go,  from 


46  THE   KIPE   SCHOLAE. 

it,  in  its  confidence,  and  witli  its  consecration.  It  is  the 
single  liojDe  of  sinners.  It  is  the  only  stay  of  men. 
Bow  your  young  hearts,  before  it,  as  you  stand  upon 
the  threshold  of  a  world,  which  is  to  try  your  inmost 
souls.  Plead,  for  the  sins  and  follies  of  your  youth,  the 
pardon  of  its  blood.  Plead,  for  the  infirmity  and  inex- 
perience of  youj*  youth,  the  succours  of  its  grace.  Then, 
rise,  and  go  upon  your  way.  Go,  to  be  conquerors,  of 
the  world,  and  of  yourselves.  The  young  men  of  the 
Cross  of  Jesus  Christ. 


V. 

THE  BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS, 

AT  THE 

*  FIFTH  ANNUAL  COMMENCEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 


EDUCATION    A    DIVINE    THING. 

Education  is  a  divine  thing.  It  is  tlie  rescue  and 
restoration  of  an  immortal,  fallen,  nature.  It  contem- 
plates its  redemption,  first ;  then,  its  renewal,  in  the 
divine  image ;  then,  its  re-union  with  God.  Its  stand- 
point is  the  Cross.  The  channel  of  its  influence  is  the 
Church.  Its  agent  is  the  Holy  Spirit.  Education  is, 
thus,  A  divine  thing.  It  is  from  God.  It  is  through 
God.     It  isfor  God. 

The  authority,  to  educate  a  human  soul,  must  come 
from  God, 

The  means,  to  educate  a  human  soul,  must  come 
through  God. 

The  motive,  to  educate  a  human  soul  is,  that  it  may 
,  be  fitted,  for  God. 

*  St.  Michael  and  AH  Angels,  A.  D.  1854. 


48  EDUCATION   A   DIVINE   THING. 

Tlie  establisliment  and  application  of  these  three 
propositions  will  occupy  our  present  thoughts.  On 
them,  as  on  an  arch  of  living  rock,  this  College  has  been 
founded.  In  them,  alone,  do  we  desire  that  it  should 
stand.  Through  them,  it  is,  that  we  have  hope,  that 
these  young  men,  its  latest  born,  will  be  its  glory  and 
its  crown.  That,  such,  they  may  approve  themselves, 
we  ask  the  charity  of  your  prayers. 

I.  TJie  mitJiority^  to  educate  a  human  soul,  must 
come,  from  God.  On  this  subject,  men  reason  very 
loosely ;  if,  at  all.  They  take,  for  granted,  a  dominion 
over  human  thought,  human  desire,  and  human  will, 
which  in  no  other  realm  of  the  Creation,  is  assumed. 
For,  mark  the  careful  wisdom  of  the  great  Creator. 
When  He  had  "  made  the  beast  of  the  earth,  after  his 
kind,  and  cattle,  after  their  kind,  and  every  thing,  that 
creepeth,  on  the  earth,  after  his  kind,"  He  left  not  man, 
though  made  in  His  own  image,  after  His  likeness,  to 
assert  the  sovereignty,  for  which  he  was  created ;  but, 
granted  it,  in  terms  express :  "  let  them  have  dominion 
over  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  over  the  fowl  of  the  air, 
and  over  the  cattle,  and  over  all  the  earth,  and  over 
every  creeping  thing,  that  creepeth  on  the  earth."  Nay, 
the  mere  lordship  of  Creation  did  not  give  inherent 
right  to  use,  even,  the  vegetable  kingdom.  But,  God 
expressly  said  :  "  Behold,  I  have  given  you  every  herb 
bearing  seed,  which  is  upon  the  face  of  all  the  earth,  and 
every  tree  in  the  which  is  the  finiit  of  a  tree,  yielding  , 
seed ;  To  you,  it  shall  be,  for  meat."  And,  yet,  the  human 


EDUCATION    A    DIVINE   THING.  49 

soul,  an  emanation  from  the  Lord,  His  likeness,  photo- 
graphed, in  the  spiritual  light,  which  beams,  forever 
from  His  face,  is  unprovided  for,  and  undisposed  of ! 
Whoever  will,  may,  educate  a  child.  And,  a  controul  is, 
thus,  asserted,  over  human  thought,  human  desii'e,  and 
human  will^ — since,  education  comprehends  them,  all — 
as  the  inherent  right  of  any,  who  assert  it,  which  is  not 
claimed,  over  sheep  or  oxen  ;  or,  even,  in  the  vineyard, 
or  the  cornfield.  Man  shows  his  deed  of  gift,  from 
God,  to  yoke  the  patient  ox,  or  shear  the  harmless 
sheep.  He  takes  no  ear  from  off  the  standing  corn,  no 
round  and  bursting  berry,  from  the  full  and  purple 
cluster,  but,  as  God's  gift,  to  him,  for  meat.  While,  the 
mere  will,  to  attempt  it,  is  claimed,  as  his  ample  and 
sufficient  charter,  for  the  training  of  a  child :  a  soul,  on 
which  the  blood  of  Jesus  has  been  shed ;  a  germ  of  im- 
mortality ;  a  candidate  for  heaven  ! 

One  glance  will  show,  that  this  cannot  be  right. 
God  does  not  care  for  moral  creatures,  least.  When  the 
dire  ruin  of  the  Fall  occurred,  no  jDrice  was  paid,  to  ran- 
som, from  its  curse,  the  physical  Creation.  It  "  groaneth 
and  travaileth,  in  pain,  together,  until  now."  And, 
when  God's  purposes  are  served,  with  it,  its  "  end  is,  to 
be  burned."  But,  for  the  human  soul,  the  Son  of  God 
came  down,  from  heaven.  He  took  its  place ;  and 
underwent  its  death.  And,  now,  there  lies  upon  it,  as 
the  mark  of  that  new  ownership,  which  its  redemption 
consummated,  the  signet  of  the  Cross ;  by  which,  God 
seals  it,  as  His  own,  and  consecrates  it,  to  His  sei^vdce. 
He  never  has  let  go  His  hold,  upon  the  heart ;  nor,  for 

VOL.  IV. 4 


50  EDUCATIOlSr   A   DIVINE   THI]N^G. 

a  moment,  intermitted  His  prerogative,  to  mould  and 
train  it  at  His  will.  TLroiigh  faithful  Abraham,  He 
set  His  mark,  in  blood,  on  all  the  childi-en  of  the  race. 
And,  when  the  elder  covenant  was  merged,  in  that,  of 
which  it  was  the  shadow,  cast  before ;  and  baptism 
took  the  place  of  circumcision,  His  Cross,  who  shed  His 
blood,  that  man's  might  cease  to  flow,  traced,  on  the 
brow  of  His  redeemed  ones,  the  Si2;n  of  their  salvation ; 
and  marked  them,  as  the  Lord's.  And,  now,  observe  the 
perfect  parallelism.  Of  Abraham,  in  whom  the  sacra- 
ment of  circumcision  was  instituted,  God  declared,  "  I 
know  him,  that  he  will  command  his  children  and  his 
household,  after  him ;  and  they  shall  keep  the  way  of 
the  Lord,  to  do  justice  and  judgment."  To  the  Twelve, 
through  whom,  the  sacrament  of  baptism  was  ordained, 
for  all  the  nations,  the  commission  was,  also,  given  to 
"  teach,"  them,  "  all  things."  And,  when  St.  Paul,  to 
the  Ephesians,  enumerates  the  gifts  of  the  Ascension, 
the  list,  which  opens  with  "Apostles,"  ends  mth 
"  Teachers  :  "  "  and  He  gave  some,"  to  be  "  apostles ; 
and  some,"  to  be  "  prophets ;  and  some,"  to  be  "  evan- 
gelists ;  and  some,"  to  be  "  pastors  and  teachers."  I 
know  the  apt  and  ready  answer :  these  were  spiritual 
teachers.  But,  I  ask,  if  man  is  not  a  unit  ?  If  there 
can  be  any  teaching,  which  does  not  influence  the 
spirit  ?  And,  if,  since  the  greater  must  include  the  less, 
the  spiritual  teacher  is  not  the  trae  agent,  in  the  educa- 
tion of  the  man  ?  Again,  I  know  the  apt  and  ready  an- 
swer :  the  things,  which  apostles  were  to  teach,  were 
those,  which  Jesus  had  commanded  them.     Again,  I 


EDUCATION    A   DIVINE   THING.  51 

ask,  if  man  is  not  a  unit  ?  Again,  I  ask,  if  they  wlio 
are  entrusted  with  tlie  greatest,  are  not  held  for  all  the 
rest  ?  Where  is  the  skill,  or  where  the  power  that 
shall  resolve  the  unit,  man,  as  pedants  teach,  and  as 
empirics  try  to  practice,  into  the  physical,  the  intellec- 
tual, and  the  spiritual  ?  Does  he  come,  so,  into  the 
world  ?  Can  he  be  born,  in  three  instalments  ?  Can 
he  die,  in  three  ?  Can  he  stand  up,  before  the  Judge, 
in  three  ?  So,  neither,  can  he  live,  in  three.  And,  there- 
fore, never  can  be  trained,  in  three.  It  is  the  heart, 
that  is  the  man.  And  everyhow,  the  heart  is  one.  It 
comes,  as  one,  into  the  world.  It  is  regenerate,  as  one, 
in  holy  baptism.  It  stands,  as  one,  at  that  eventful 
point,  where  good  and  evil  part,  to  lead  toward  heaven, 
or  hell.  As  one,  it  makes  its  choice,  between  the  two. 
As  one,  it  yields  itself  to  the  corruption  of  the  Devil,  or 
the  renewal  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Sanctifier.  As  one, 
its  takes  its  leave  of  mortal  life.  As  one,  it  is  to  stand, 
before  the  awful  throne.  As  one,  it  is  to  go  careering 
on,  for  ever,  in  an  immortality  of  happiness,  or  misery. 
And,  therefore,  education  is  but  one.  And,  therefore, 
to  the  agents,  whom  the  Saviour  designated,  to  make 
lost  man,  the  child  of  God,  in  holy  baptism,  his  train- 
ing, all,  has  been  entrusted.  And  the  school,  for  sin- 
ners, is  the  Church ;  whose  office  is  to  make  them 
saints.  And  education  is  a  divine  thing  :  because,  the 
authority,  to  educate  a  human  soul,  can  only  come 
fi'om  Him,  who  made  it,  first ;  and,  then,  re(|pemed 
it.  And,  see,  how  nature  countersigns,  in  this,  the 
law  of   grace.     Who  moulds  the    pliant   muscles   of 


52  EDUCATION   A   DIVINE   THING. 

tliat  new-born  babe?  Who  sliaj^es  Ms  stammering 
accents,  into  words  ?  Wlio  frames  liis  words,  unconscious 
yet,  of  meaning,  into  prayers  ?  Slie,  to  wliom  God  con- 
veyed tlie  authority,  together  with  the  name,  of  Mother. 
And,  when  the  father  curbs  the  wayward  child ;  and 
chastens  him,  in  love ;  and  makes  him  kiss  the  rod, 
that  smites  him,  for  his  good,  it  is  God,  in  him,  that 
does  it.  And  there  is  no  power,  inherent,  in  one  human 
being,  to  controul  another :  to  deny  him  the  indul- 
gence of  a  natural  desire ;  to  compel  him  to  exertion, 
which  he  does  not  choose  to  make ;  to  punish  him, 
for  that,  which  he  has  not  done,  which  he  should,  or 
done,  which  he  should  not.  The  only  master  of  a 
moral  creature  is  his  Maker.  And  parents,  teachers, 
governors,  spiritual  ]3astors,  are  usurpers,  one  and  all, 
and  tyrants,  but  as  God  deputes,  to  them.  His  power. 
And,  as  the  most  complete  controul  that  can  be  claimed, 
or  exercised,  in  moral  creatures,  is  that,  which  is  to 
make  them  what  they  are  not,  and  choose  not  to  be, 
which  is  the  work  of  education ;  and,  which,  that  it 
may  mn  and  wield  its  will,  takes  it,  at  disadvantage,  in 
its  helplessness,  and  never  lets  its  hold  go,  till  its  life 
goes  :  the  claim  to  educate  could  never  be  allowed,  but 
in  the  basest  treachery  to  our  immortal  moral  nature, 
to  any  who  has  not  received  authority,  fi^om  God.  I 
can  but  throw  this  thought,  before  you,  to  be  thought 
out,  by  you.  But  it  is  elementary,  essential,  truth. 
And  ^e  claim  to  educate  a  child,  which  stands  on  any 
lower  ground,  is  the  claim  of  the  Czar,  to  consign  an 
exile  to  Siberia;    or  of  the   Inquisition,  to   imprison 


EDUCATION   A   DIVINE   THING.  53 

Galileo.  Power  may  enforce  submission ;  but,  it  cannot 
win  consent.  And,  in  ten  thousand  thousand  voices, 
nature's  instinctive,  universal,  protest,  still,  will  rise  to 
Heaven  :  "  E  pui'  si  muove  :  "  and,  after  all,  it  moves ! 

II.  And,  now,  tlie  means,  to  educate  a  human  soul 
must  come,  through  God.  Education  is  a  divine  thino  : 
not  only,  as  it  is,  from  God ;  but,  as  it  must  be  through 
God.  I  do  not  mean,  by  this,  the  simple  truth,  that 
even,  to  count,  is  proof  of  a  divine  Creator.  I  sjoeak  of 
education,  in  its  true  and  noble  sense ;  as  the  develope- 
ment — literally,  the  hringing  out — of  an  immortal,  God- 
like, nature.  In  this  sense,  it  must  comprehend  the 
whole ;  not  limit  itself  to  any  part,  or  jDarts.  Suppose 
the  germ,  that  nestles  in  an  acorn,  to  be  develoj^ed,  only 
in  the  bark,  or  in  the  leaves  of  the  primaeval  oak  !  It 
would  be  more  than  most  men  mean,  by  education  ;  or 
most  children  get,  by  it :  to  write  their  names ;  to  keep 
accounts ;  to  reckon  interest ;  to  make  a  bow ;  to  sing  a 
song,  which  has  no  sense,  in  words,  which  are  not 
understood ;  to  whirl  the  wanton  Waltz,  or  the  lasciv- 
ious Polka.  These  are  not,  even,  the  bark,  or  leaves,  of 
education.  Then,  how  much  less,  the  tree  ;  its  roots,  its 
boughs,  its  sheltering  shadow,  its  sky-piercing  aspira- 
tions. Proportion,  to  its  end,  perfection  in  its  kind,  are 
the  great  principles  of  excellence,  in  every  thing.  In 
man,  then,  most  of  all.  Only,  in  him,  has  God  pro- 
posed to  re-j^roduce  Himself.  And,  when  the  aim  was 
marred,  through  malice  of  the  Devil,  then,  to  restore, 
was  harder  than  to  make.     In  every  work,  the  means 


54  EDUCATION   A   DIVINE   THING. 

are  measured  by  the  end.  To  pile  tlie  Andes  ;  to  make 
a  line  of  sand,  the  limit  of  the  sea ;  to  poise  the  solar 
system,  in  mid-space ;  to  "  guide  Arcturus,  mth  his 
sons,"  are  trophies  of  Omnipotence.  It  takes  no  less — 
it  would  take  more,  if  there  were  measures,  in  Almight- 
iness — to  lift  the  grovelling  sense,  from  earth  to  heaven ; 
to  win  the  reckless  and  rebellious  will,  to  rule  itself; 
and,  from  the  ruins  of  the  Fall,  to  bring  again,  the 
order,  the  beauty,  the  harmony,  the  purity,  the  loveli- 
ness, the  perfectness,  of  the  original  Creation.  "  And 
God  saw  every  thing  that  he  had  made ;  and,  behold,  it 
was  very  good."  To  say,  that  this  is  the  design  of 
education,  is  to  say,  that  the  means  to  educate  a  human 
soul  must  come  through  God.  And  He  has  bountifully 
provided  them.  If  we  may  say  it.  He  has  laid  Himself 
out,  on  that  provision :  and  brought  all  agencies  to 
bear,  divine  and  human,  on  the  training  of  the  soul, 
which  Jesus  suffered,  to  redeem.  His  holy  Word,  His 
holy  Church,  His  holy  Spirit,  are  all  enlisted,  in  that 
work.  And  holy  Angels  jAj  their  constant  ministra- 
tions, in  behalf  of  human  souls ;  and,  when  a  single  one 
has  turned,  from  sin  to  holiness,  merge  all  their  minis- 
try, in  the  high  harpings,  which  fill  heaven,  with  halle- 
lujahs. But,  means  are  to  be  used.  They  cannot  use 
themselves.  Nor,  can  the  God,  who  made  the  heart, 
compel  their  use :  because.  He  made  it  free.  In  vain, 
the  swellings  of  the  Jordan,  if  the  leper  would  not 
wash.  In  vain,  the  floods  of  day,  to  eyes,  that  close 
their  lids.  And,  worse  than  that,  if  worse  can  be,  the 
seduction  of  the  Devil  has  so  won,  with  human  hearts. 


EDUCATION   A    DIVHSTE   THING.  55 

as  to  divorce  the  soul,  from  God ;  and  leave  Him  out 
of  that  most  gracious  work,  for  wliicli  He  gave  His 
blessed  Son,  and  sends  His  Holy  Spirit.     Education, 
without  the  Church  ;  education,  without  the  ministry ; 
education,  without  the  sacraments  ;  education,  without 
prayer ;    education,  without  the  Bible :  in  one  word, 
godless  education,  is  the  order  of  the  day.     And  the 
physical  powers  of  men  are  educated,  and  their  intellec- 
tual faculties,  and  their  social  natui^e,  just  as  a  monkey 
or  a  parrot  might  be  trained ;  and  all,  that  God  cares 
most  for,  and  all  that  is  immortal,  in  its  essence,  left, 
to  run  its  own  wild  way,  and  do  its  own  wild  will. 
Against  all  this,  we  set  ourselves,  immoveably.     We 
have  been  taught,  of  holy  Paul,  as  he  had  learned,  from 
Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord  :  ^"  beware  lest  any  man  spoil 
you  through  philosophy  and  vain  deceit,  after  the  tra- 
dition of  men,  after  the  rudiments  of  the  world,  and 
not  after  Christ :  for,  in  Him,  dwelleth  all  the  fulness 
of    the    Godhead,    bodily;    and   ye   are   complete,  in 
Him."     The  education,  which  we  undertake,  is  Chris- 
tian education.     In  no  disparagement  of  physical  devel- 
opement.     In  no  disparagement  of  intellectual  training. 
In  no  disparagement  of  social  cultivation.     But,  for  the 
fullest,  most  effectual,  furtherance  of  them  all,  in  that, 
which  God  designed,  should  comprehend  them  all,  and 
give  them  value,  beauty,  glory,  power  and  immortality, 
the  nurture  and  the  culture  of  the  heart ;  that,  so,  the 
child  of  God,  redeemed,  regenerated  and  renewed,  in 
Jesus  Christ,  may  be  "  complete,  in  Him." 


56  EDUCATION   A   DIVLISrE   THING. 

III.  And  this,  because  the  motive^  to  educate  a  human 
soul  is,  that  it  may  he  fit  for  God.  Education  is  a 
DIVINE  THING :  not  Only  as  it  is  from  God,  and  must  be 
through  God :  but,  as  it  should  be  for  God.  The 
motives  which  are  used,  to  further  education,  among 
men,  are  many  and  various.  For  personal  elevation ; 
for  the  pleasui^e  of  it ;  to  appear  well  in  society ;  for  the 
gratification  of  friends ;  to  serve  the  countiy.  All,  in 
their  way,  good  ;  to  their  extent.  But  all,  far  short  of 
the  whole  truth.  This  is  the  true  motive  to  education : 
to  restore  to  God,  as  near  as  may  be,  that,  which,  at  the 
Fall,  was  lost.  Little  as  he  may  think  it,  man  is  a 
trustee  to  his  Maker,  of  the  image,  which  He  made  him 
in.  Restored,  by  the  redemption  of  the  Cross,  to  the 
capacity  of  its  renewal,  and  famished  through  its  pur- 
chase, with  the  means,  he  lies  under  the  most  solemn 
obligation,  to  improve  the  one,  so  as  to  ensure  the  other. 
All  other  motives  are  but  partial,  temporary,  ineffectual. 
This,  only,  rises  to  the  height  of  the  "  great  argument," 
of  human  obligation.  And,  as  water  never  rises  higher 
than  its  source ;  and  only  the  mountain  springs  can 
reach  the  upper  stories,  in  a  house ;  so,  this,  alone,  can 
animate  and  prosecute  the  enterprise,  by  which,  the 
gracious  purpose  of  the  Cross  can,  surely,  realize  its 
purposes. 

"  Mere  human  energy  shall  faint, 
And  youthful  vigor  cease  ; 
But  those,  who  wait  upon  the  Lord, 
In  strength,  shall  still  increase. 


EDUCATION    A   DIVLNE   THING.  5T 

"  They,  with  unweai-ied  step  shall  tread 
The  path  of  life  divine  : 
With  growing  ardor,  onward  move  ; 
With  growing  bi'ightness,  shine. 

"  On  eagles'  wings  they  mount,  they  soar, 
On  wings  of  faith  and  love  ; 
Till,  past  the  sphere  of  earth  and  sm, 
They  rise  to  heaven,  above." 

My  Cliildren,  you  have  received  tlie  honours  of  the 
Institution.  You  are,  now,  to  prove,  that  you  had 
earned  them.  There  will  be  much  expected  of  you. 
See  to  it,  that  it  be  not  disappointed.  You  step  upon 
the  stage  of  outdoor  life,  at  an  eventful  moment,  in  the 
drama.  Great  movements  are  in  progress,  everywhere. 
The  end,  no  man  can  see.  Nor,  are  we  answerable,  for 
that.  It  rests,  and  it  is  safe,  with  God.  You  are  not,  now, 
to  learn  your  great  responsibilities  ;  as  men,  as  freemen, 
and  as  Christians.  They  have  been  truly  set  before 
you,  day  by  day,  thi^ough  all  your  academic  life.  You 
are  now,  to  turn  the  precepts  of  your  Alma  Mater  into 
practice :  and  to  realize  her  lofty  aims,  in  your  high 
com^se,  of  duty  and  of  honour.  Remember  life  is  short. 
Remember,  being  is  eternal. 


VI. 
THE  BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS, 

AT  THE 

*  SIXTH  ANNUAL  COMMENCEMENT    OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 


THE    CHILD    IS    FATHER    OF    THE    MAN. 

There  are  no  accidents.  JSTotliing,  in  nature,  or  in 
life,  that  is  not  by  a  plan.  A  providential  law  perrades 
the  universe.  And,  yet,  with  universal  freedom.  A 
sparrow  does  not  fall,  without  our  Father.  Nor,  a  hair 
is  black  or  white,  but  as  He  wills.  Yet,  Liebig  will 
reveal  to  you  the  glands,  by  Avhich  the  colouring  matter 
is  distributed,  to  each  particular  hair.  And  the  blithe 
sparrow  chirps  and  chatters,  as  he  springs  from  spray 
to  spray,  in  the  full  consciousness  of  perfect  liberty.  As 
the  scale  of  the  creation  rises,  towards  the  Creator,  this 
freedom,  with  a  law,  becomes,  at  once,  more  manifest  and 
more  magnificent.  It  is  the  majesty  of  moral  natures. 
Angels  exult  in  it.  It  is  the  unconscious  charm  of 
childhood.  It  links  our  life,  thi'ough  all  its  stages,  into 
one.     And  its  electric  chain  takes  in  eternity.     A  great 

*  St.  Michael  and  All  Angels,  A.  D.  1855. 


THE   CHILD   IS    FATHER    OF   THE   MAN.  59 

pMlosoplier  lias  said,  of  men,  who  disconnect  tlie  present 
and  the  future,  from  the  past  that,  "  they  exist,  in  frag- 
ments." And  he  most  happily  illustrates  his  meaning, 
and  sets  forth  the  law  of  continuity,  in  moral  natures, 
with  the  words  of  another  great  philosopher ;  like  him, 
a  poet,  too : 

"  My  heart  leaps  up,  when  I  behold 

A  rain-bow,  in  the  sky. 
So  was  it,  when  my  life  began ; 
So  is  it,  now  I  am  a  man ; 
So  let  it  be,  when  I  grow  old ; 

Or,  let  me  die. 
The  child  is  father  of  the  man  / 
And  I  would  wish  my  days  to  be 
Bound,  each  to  each,  by  natural  piety." 

And  the  poet  of  the  Christian  Year,  worthy  to  be 
named  with  Coleridge,  and  with  Wordsworth,  has  caught 
the  same  conclusion,  and  developed  the  same  law,  under 
another,  scarcely,  a  different,  illustration. 

"  Our  j^ath  of  glory, 
By  many  a  cloud,  is  darken'd  and  unblest : 
And,  daily,  as  we  downward  glide 
Life's  ebbing  stream,  on  either  side, 
Shows,  at  each  turn,  some  mouldering  hojDe  or  joy ; 
The  man  seems  following,  still,  the  funeral  of  the  boy.''''  * 

"The  child  is  father  of  the  man." 

What  does  this  mean  ? 
What  does  it  teach  ? 

I.  What  does  it  mean,  to  say,  "  the  child  is  father 

*  First  Sunday  after  Trinity. 


60  THE    CHILD    IS   FATHEE    OF   THE   MAN, 

of  the  man  ?  "  What  does  it  mean,  to  say,  the  oak  is  in 
the  acorn  ?  What  does  it  mean,  to  say,  the  fleet  is  in 
the  forest  ?  It  is  one  of  those  primal  truths,  which  are 
latent,  in  all  minds.  The  electric  spark  of  a  great 
thought  flashes  them,  into  form.  And  we  wonder,  why 
we  never  hit  upon  them.  Nothing  was  easier  than  to 
make  the  ^^^^  stand  up,  when  Columbus  had  shown  how. 
Go  to  the  Patent  Oflice,  at  Washington.  Look  into  the 
department  of  agriculture.  See,  with  what  care,  those 
grains  and  seeds,  of  every  kind,  from  every  quarter  of 
the  world,  are  sorted  and  distinguished ;  are  folded  up ; 
are  tied ;  are  labelled ;  are  laid  in  difterent  drawers,  or 
upon  different  shelves.  Then,  let  a  chance  cucumber- 
seed  drop,  by  your  choicest  melon-bed  ;  and  the  distor- 
tion of  your  disappointment,  when  you  taste  the  first, 
that  ripens,  on  those  cherished  vines,  will  tell  you,  why 
such  care  is  exercised,  as  language  cannot  tell  it.  How 
anxiously  the  blood  is  cared  for,  in  the  breeds  of  cattle ! 
How  completely  Devon,  and  Durham,  and  Alderney, 
have  become  "  household  words,"  among  our  farmers  ! 
And,  how  could  Welsh  or  Spanish  pedigree  be  noted, 
with  more  scrupulous  accuracy,  than  that  of  the  win- 
ning horse  at  Epsom,  or  the  Derby  ?  It  is  far  surer  to 
be  true,  that  "  the  child  is  father  of  the  man."  He 
owned  it,  who  saw,  in  the  boy  Caesar,  many  Syllas.  St. 
Paul  felt  more  assm^ed  of  Timothy,  when  he  remem- 
bered, that,  "  from  a  boy,"  he  had  "  known  the  Holy 
Scriptures."  And  it  is  the  lesson  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
by  Solomon,  "  Train  up  a  child,  in  the  way  he  should 
go ;  and,  when  he  is  old,  he  will  not  depart  from  it." 


THE    CHILD    IS    FATHEIl    OF   THE    MAN.  61 

II.  "Tlie  child  is  father  of  the  man."  What  it 
means,  we  see.     What  does  it  teach  ? 

i.  If  "  the  child  is  father  of  the  man,"  ^oe  should  he 
watchful  of  him.  He  has  a  fallen  natm-e.  He  was 
born  in  sin.  The  flesh  wars,  in  him,  with  the  Spirit. 
The  world,  about  him,  lies  in  wickedness  ;  and  is  mag- 
netic, for  his  ruin.  And  Satan,  "  like  a  roaring  lion," 
lies  in  wait,  among  our  lambs.  We  have  need,  in  such 
a  case,  of  utmost  watchfulness.  To  secure  his  earliest 
entrance  into  the  heavenly  kingdom,  by  the  new  birth, 
of  water  and  the  Sj)irit.  To  surround  him,  fi^om  the 
first,  with  all  the  guards,  which  prudence  prompts,  and 
love  supplies.  To  teach  him,  as  he  can  receive  it,  the 
path  of  present  duty,  and  the  way  of  everlasting  happi- 
ness. And,  above  all,  to  shield  him  with  the  perpetual 
panoply  of  prayer.  There  is  no  such  trust  on  earth,  as 
a  young  child.  None,  for  difficulty.  None,  for  sacred- 
ness.  None,  for  importance.  There  is  the  body  to  be 
cared  for.  There  is  the  mind,  to  be  developed.  There 
is  the  soul,  to  be  sanctified  and  saved.  It  is  a  trust,  for 
time.  It  is  a  trust,  for  eternity.  How  watchfal  of 
him,  we  should  be  ! 

ii.  If  "  the  child  is  father  of  the  man,"  loe  should  he 
hopeful  of  him.  He  is  designed  for  excellence.  He  is 
intended  for  immortality.  Such  was  Shakspeare,  once. 
Such  was  Washington.  Such  was  St.  Paul.  Who  can 
tell,  what  any  child  may  be  ?  There  is  the  God-likeness 
in  him ;  lost,  but  restored,  in  Christ.  There  is  the 
moulding  influence  of  instraction.  There  is  the  uncon- 
scious power  of  example.     There  is  the  omnipotence  of 


62  THE   CHILD    IS   FATHER    OF   THE   MAN. 

prayer.  Who  can  answer  tlie  question,  wliicli  was 
asked,  in  regard  to  John  the  Baptist,  "  What  manner 
of  child  shall  this  be  ?  "  Let  "  the  hand  of  the  Lord  " 
be  with  him ;  and,  what  may  he  not  be  'I  We  must 
be  hopeful  of  a  child.     He  is  the  "  father  of  the  man." 

iii.  If  "  the  child  is  father  of  the  man,"  ive  should  be 
patient  tvith  him.  How  much  we  need  God's  patience  ! 
How  we  try  it !  How  it  still  waits  upon  us.  And 
how  impatient  we  are  apt  to  be,  with  children.  We 
forget  that  we  ourselves  were  children,  once.  We  for- 
get how  w^ay ward  we  were,  then ;  how  disobedient,  how 
rebellious.  Nay,  that  we  are  still  so,  toward  God.  And 
that  theii'  faults,  it  may  be,  are  but  the  reflections  of 
our  own.  A  child  is  a  tender  thing.  It  must  be  han- 
dled tenderly.  A  rough  word  may  break  down  its 
spirit.  A  sneer  may  embitter  it,  for  life.  A  rude  touch 
may  set  it  wrong,  for  eternity.  God  developes  His  own 
handiwork,  in  time.  It  is  an  infant,  first ;  and,  then,  a 
child  ;  and,  then,  a  youth.  And,  not  a  man,  for  one  and 
twenty  years.  And  we  must  follow  God.  And  wait 
on  children.  And  have  long  patience  with  them. 
"  Fii'st,  the  blade ;  then,  the  ear ;  "  not  till  "  after  that, 
the  full  corn,  in  the  ear."  "  That  our  sons  may  grow 
up,  as  the  young  plants ;  that  our  daughters  may  be,  as 
the  polished  corners  of  the  temple,"  how  i3atient  with 
them,  we  should  be. 

iv.  If  "  the  child  is  father  of  the  man,"  toe  should  he 
loving  with  him.  Love  is  the  universal  solvent.  God 
does  nothing,  without  love.  Man  can  do  nothing,  but 
by  it.     Machinery  is  moved,  by  power.     Hearts  must 


THE   CHILD   IS    FATHER    OF   THE   MAJf.  03 

be  swayed,  by  love.  It  is  so  especially  with  cliildren. 
Hence,  the  instinctive  love,  with  which  a  new-born  babe 
is  welcomed,  into  life.  Hence,  the  attractiveness  of  lit- 
tle children.  But,  it  must  be  more  than  this.  They  are 
not  always  lovely.  And,  yet  we  must  be  always  lo\^ng. 
And,  the  less  loveliness,  the  more  love.  Only  love  can 
exercise  the  watchfulness,  which  little  children  call  for. 
Only  love  can  prompt  the  perpetual  hopefiilness.  Only 
love  sustain  the  unwearying  patience.  Nor  is  it  a  weak, 
blind,  love,  that  meets  the  case.  "  Whom  the  Lord 
loveth  he  chasteneth."  And  it  must  be  so,  with  childi^en. 
Nothing,  that  taxes  love,  like  the  faults,  which  call  for 
chastisement.  Nothing,  that  tries  love,  like  the  deci- 
sion to  administer  it.  Nothing,  that  grieves  love,  like 
its  administration.  The  stripes,  which  it  inflicts,  are 
heart-wounds,  for  itself.  The  tears,  which  it  compels, 
are  drops  of  scalding  blood.  When  God  would  set  forth 
His  love,  with  an  argument,  which  all  can  understand, 
and  none  can  resist,  the  appeal  is  to  the  paternal  in- 
stinct :  "  As  a  father  pitieth  his  own  children,  even  so 
is  the  Lord  merciful,  to  them,  that  fear  Him." 

V.  If  "  the  child  is  father  of  the  man,"  how  ice  should 
pray  for  him  !  Love's  utmost  may  be  done,  in  vain. 
Infirmity,  in  us,  or,  in  the  hearts  which  we  desire  to  in- 
fluence, an  unyielding  obduracy,  may  thwart  and  dis- 
appoint our  most  devoted  efforts.  It  is  but  God,  that 
can  controul  the  heart.  And  He  will  only  do  it,  at  the 
instance  of  our  prayers.  The  parent,  the  pastor,  the 
teacher,  whoever  would  have  influence  with  children, 
for  their  good,  must  seek  it,  through  the  Lord.     "  Ask, 


64  THE    CHILD   IS   FATHER    OF   THE   MAN. 

and  ye  sliall  receive ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find ;  knock, 
and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you."  "  If  ye,  then,  being 
evil,  know  kow  to  give  good  gifts  unto  your  children ; 
Low  muck  more  shall  your  heavenly  Father  give  the 
Holy  Spirit,  to  them  that  ask  Him  ?  " 

Beloved  Ones,  "  the  child,"  with  you,  is,  now,  to  be 
"  the  man."  You  leave  to-day,  the  loving  bosom  of 
your  Alma  Mater,  to  struggle  mth  the  storms,  and  be 
tried,  by  the  temptations,  of  a  hard  and  heartless  world. 
But,  you  do  not  go  without  her  fondest  blessing.  She  will 
still  watch  over  you,  with  a  mother's  solicitude.  She  will 
still  pursue  you,  with  a  mother's  hopefulness.  She  will 
still  wait  on  you,  with  a  mother's  patience.  She  will  still 
dote  on  you,  with  a  mother's  love.  She  will  still  protect 
you,  with  a  mother's  prayers.  Go,  to  be  men.  Go,  to  be 
men  of  God.  Fulfil  her  highest  hopes.  Fulfil  her  fondest 
prayers.  While  others  boast  of  wealth,  of  wisdom,  of  his- 
toric glory,  let  it  be  hers  to  say,  "  En  mea  ornamenta  !  " 
These  aee  my  jewels  !  And,  at  the  last,  may  it  be 
mine,  to  say,  of  you,  and  those  who  went  before  you, 
and  are  yet  to  follow  you,  "  Behold,  I,  and  the  children, 
which  God  hath  given  me  !  "  Sons  of  my  heart,  God 
bless  you ! 


VII. 
THE  BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS, 

AT  THE 

*  SEVENTH  ANNUAL  COMMENCEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 


ALMA    MATER. 


I  WELL  remember  tlie  first  time,  that  I  ever  saw  the 
expression,  "  Alma  Matee."  It  is,  now,  fifty  years  ago. 
It  occurred,  in  a  curious  anecdote  of  Dr.  Isaac  Barrow ; 
recorded,  in  a  book,  wliicli,  it  is  probable,  no  one,  here, 
has  ever  seen  :  "  Maternal  Instruction,"  by  Mrs.  Eliza- 
beth Helme.  I  knew  no  Latin,  then ;  nor,  for  three 
years,  after :  but,  I  was  struck  with  the  look  of  it ; 
guessed  out  its  meaning,  from  the  context ;  and,  never 
forgot  it.  I  have  scarcely  seen  the  volume,  since  :  but, 
these  first  Latin  words,  that  I  had  ever  met  with,  im- 
pressed me  with  a  desire  for  Academic  Education ;  and 
kindled,  in  me,  a  love  of  learning,  whose  flame,  in  half 
a  century,  has  never  flickered.  It  is  a  trifling,  yet  a 
fruitful,  incident ;  and  might  be  easily  drawn  out,  in  many 

*  St.  Michael  and  All  Angels,  A.  D.  1856. 
VOL.  IV. — 5 


(36  ALMA   MATEE. 

profitable  lessons.  Tlie  value  of  good  books,  in  early 
cliildliood,  the  slight  thing  which  gives  course  and  colour 
to  the  cuiTent  of  a  life  ;  the  mysterious  power  of  words, 
not  understood,  and  truths,  not  comprehended,  over  the 
mind  and  heart :  are  only  two  or  three  of  them.  The 
truths,  which,  in  this  morning  twilight  of  our  being,  flit 
before  us,  like  the  shadows  of  the  mountain ;  in  the 
eternal  noon  of  heaven,  will  stand,  as  glorious  and  eter- 
nal realities. 

Alma  Matee,  in  its  literal  meaning,  is  a  nursing 
mnotlier.  Alumnus  is  its  counterpart,  precisely.  Both 
come  from  alo  which  means  to  nourish,  strengthen,  cause 
to  grow.  To  almus,  the  adjective,  there  is  no  limit  of 
the  meanings ;  and  all,  so  gentle  and  so  genial.  It  is 
applied  to  the  Sun ;  it  is  applied  to  the  Earth ;  it  is 
applied  to  Ceres ;  it  is  applied  to  Venus ;  it  is  applied 
to  the  light ;  it  is  applied  to  faith ;  it  is  applied  to  peace ; 
it  is  applied  to  the  vine ;  it  is  applied  to  a  mother's  breasts. 
It  means  nourishing,  cherishing,  bountifid,  gracious, 
favoui^able,  fail',  propitious,  sacred.  Alumnus^  its  deriva- 
tive, is  a  nursling,  a  foster  child,  a  pupil.  Cicero  speaks  of 
one,  who  had  been,  as  it  were,  the  nursling,  the  alumnus, 
of  his  discipline  :  and  he  calls  Aristotle  and  others,  the 
alumni  of  Plato  ;  that  is,  his  followers,  disciples,  pupils. 
By  a  natural  transition,  the  Students  of  a  College  are 
its  alumni  ;  the  College  is  their  Alma  Mater.  It  was 
first  applied  to  the  English  University,  at  Cambridge. 
It  is,  now,  of  universal  application.  The  theory  is  nat- 
ural and  beautiful.     We  all  have  mothers.     They  bear 


ALMA   MATER.  67 

US.  They  feed  us.  They  bring  us  up.  The  time  comes 
when  we  need  more  than  they  can  do  for  us ;  and  yet, 
we  are  not  fit  to  enter  into  life.  The  College  takes  us, 
to  her  arms.  She  feeds  us,  from  her  breasts.  She  trains 
us,  at  her  knees.  She  nourishes,  she  cherishes,  she 
strengthens,  us.  She  makes  us  men.  We  are  her  foster- 
children.  She  is  ouj"  nursing  mother.  In  the  beautiful 
Latin  phrase,  she  is  our  Alma  Mater  ,  ^^Ahna  Mater 
Cantah'igia^^  ^^Alma  Mater  Burlingtoniar  The  con- 
nection seems  a  bold  one.  But  Cambridge,  once,  was 
small. 

"  Alma  Mater."  Could  there  be  happier  words  ? 
They  condense,  into  a  minimum^  whatever  is  embraced 
in  the  relation  of  a  College,  to  its  Alumni ;  and,  of 
Alumni^  to  their  College. 

She  is  their  Mother — They  are  children.  They 
have  left  their  home.  They  are  alone,  upon  the  world. 
They  are  without  experience  of  its  ways.  They  are 
without  suspicion  of  its  temptations.  They  are  without 
consolation,  in  its  trials.  What,  but  a  mother,  can  come 
into  such  a  place.  A  sister  could  not.  Her  innocence 
would  be  her  ignorance.  A  brother  could  not.  There 
is  rivalry  in  brothers.  A  father  could  not.  He  would 
be  too  busy.  He  would  lack  tenderness.  He  could 
not  make  allowance  for  inexperience  or  infirmity.  Who 
does  not  feel,  that  it  is  just  the  occasion,  for  a  mother  \ 
A  mother's  gentleness.  A  mother's  patience.  A 
mother's  watchfulness.  A  mother's  thoughtfulness. 
A  mother's  ingenuity.     A  mother's  faith.     A  mother's 


68  ALMA   MATEE. 

hope.  A  motlier's  love.  A  motlier's  prayers.  There 
is  no  other  thing,  no  other  thought,  to  meet  the  case, 
"but  just  a  mother.  And  that  does.  It  provides  for 
ignorance.  It  provides  for  inexperience.  It  provides 
for  infirmity.  It  provides  for  inconstancy.  It  has  helps, 
cautions,  counsels,  cares,  reproofs,  entreaties,  exhorta- 
tions, tears.  Are  you  sick?  There  is  nursing.  Are 
you  alone  ?  There  is  company.  Are  you  sad  ?  There 
is  a  smile.  Are  you  petulant  ?  There  is  forbearance. 
Are  you  wilful  ?  There  is  endurance.  Are  you  de- 
jected ?  There  is  encouragement.  A  mother's  eye 
brightens,  at  your  success.  A  mother's  cheek  grows 
pale,  at  your  misfortune.  A  mother's  arms  are  open, 
for  your  protection.  A  mother's  heart  is  the  shelter, 
from  every  storai ;  and  a  solace,  in  every  sorrow.  How 
beautiful,  the  pro"vdsion  of  such  a  mother  !  How  happy, 
they,  who  have  her,  for  their  own  ! 

And,  she  is  their  Nuesi]S"G  Mother — Tliey  must  he 
fed.  They  must  be  watched,  at  night.  They  must  be 
nursed,  in  sickness.  The  muscles  must  be  developed. 
The  sinews  must  be  strengthened.  Vigour  must  be 
cultivated.  Endurance  must  be  cultivated.  Courage 
must  be  cultivated.  They  must  be  made  men  of,  for 
the  masteries  of  life ;  and  fitted,  in  all  physical  regards, 
to  be  good  soldiers  of  Christ  Jesus.  Committed  to  her 
care,  just  in  the  turning  years  of  life,  for  three,  or  five, 
or  seven,  their  Alma  Mater  must  be  held,  for  these  re- 
sults :  and,  do  what  she  can,  to  restore  the  old  heroic 
line,  which  yielded,  to  the  state,  unconquerable  soldiers ; 
and  indomitable  martyrs,  for  the  Church. 


ALMA    MATEE.  69 

Again,  tliey  must  he  taught.  They  have,  yet,  only, 
begun  to  learn.  Scarcely,  indeed,  know  how.  What  an  en 
terprise,  to  teach  a  mind  to  think !  To  bring  out  its  facul 
ties.  To  develope  its  capacities.  To  excite  its  attention 
To  direct  its  observation.  To  quicken  its  imagination 
To  strengthen  its  memory.  To  secure  self-reliance,  with' 
out  self-conceit.  To  secure  boldness,  mthout  rashness 
To  diversify,  without  diftuseness.  To  be  thorough  ;  and 
not  fatigue.  To  exert ;  and  not  overtask.  To  store ;  and 
not  to  overload.  To  keep  the  powers  of  mind,  in  their 
just  equilibrium.  Not  to  engage  the  reasoning  faculty, 
to  the  neglect  of  the  imagination.  Not  to  cultivate  the 
memory,  at  the  expense  of  the  judgment.  To  allow  for 
peculiarity  of  taste ;  without  over-indulgence.  To  insist 
on  sacrifices  of  inclination  ;  and  not  break  the  S23irit. 
What  a  thing  it  is,  to  teach  !  How  responsible  !  How 
difficult !  How  perplexing  !  How  exhausting  !  Can 
it  be  done,  but  in  a  mother's  spirit  ?  How  it  tasks, 
even  a  mother's  heart  !  Is  there  another  figure,  that 
can  represent  it  all,  so  well — its  weariness,  its  watching, 
its  anxiety,  its  never-endingness — as  that,  which  is  ex- 
pressed, in  Alma  Matee,  a  nursing  mother. 

And,  still,  the  work  is,  but  begun.  Tliere  is  a 
heart,  to  care  for.  And,  a  heart,  averse  to  holiness. 
And,  so,  incapable  of  happiness.  And  it  is  not  teach- 
ing, that  can  touch  the  heart.  Nor  learning,  that  can 
lead  to  virtue.  Nor  knowledge,  that  can  help  to  heaven. 
A  moral  training  must  be  exercised.  A  spiritual  dis- 
cipline must  be  exerted.     There  must  be  gracious  in- 


70  ALMA   MATEE. 

fluences,  at  work.  And,  a  godly  example,  presented. 
And,  tlie  word  of  God  must  be  applied.  And,  the 
means  of  grace  must  be  employed.  And,  prayer  must 
wrestle,  witli  the  Lord.  And,  there  must  be  utmost 
patience,  and  constant  perseverance,  and  unfaltering 
hope,  and  unbounded  and  unfailing  charity.  See,  how 
the  blessed  Jesus  laboured,  for  the  souls  of  men  !  How 
He  pursued  them,  wearily,  from  day  to  day  !  How  He 
lavished  His  miracles,  upon  them !  How  He  urged 
them  with  such  words,  as  no  man  ever  spake !  How 
He  fasted !  How  He  watched !  How  He  prayed ! 
How  He  wept !  How  He  agonized  !  How  He  bled  ! 
Then,  see,  how  carefally  He  put  the  souls  of  men,  in 
trust.  His  last  words,  the  commission  to  His  Apostles, 
to  "  go,  teach  all  nations."  His  last  injunction,  to  St. 
Peter,  to  feed  His  lambs.  His  last  promise,  the  gift  of 
His  Holy  Spirit,  to  be  the  Comforter  and  Sanctiiier  of 
the  faithful.  With  what  toil  and  suffering,  did  the 
Twelve  pursue  theu'  trust.  In  what  tears  of  saints, 
were  the  foundations  of  the  Church,  first,  laid  !  What 
blood  of  Martyrs  has  cemented  them !  What  priva- 
tions have  been  met !  What  persecutions  suffered ! 
What  dungeons  closed !  What  scaffolds  framed ! 
What  fagots  fired !  And  the  thing,  which  has  been, 
is ;  and  is  to  be.  Souls,  for  which  Jesus  died,  must, 
still,  be  wept  over ;  must,  still,  be  yearned  upon ;  must, 
still,  be  agonized  for ;  must,  still,  be  saved,  through 
blood.  And,  kindred,  with  these  toils  and  pangs,  this 
sweat,  these  tears,  these  wounds,  must  thefr  experience 
be,  who  undertake,  for  Christ,  the  nurture  of  His  lambs. 


ALMA   MATEE.  tl 

The  motlier's  love,  that  groaned  tliem,  into  life,  must 
still  be  tasked ;  that  their  new  birth,  through  the  new 
life  of  penitence,  may  not  be  disinherited  of  its  immortal 
crown. 

Neighbours  and  friends,  I  have  but  hinted  at  the 
self-denial,  and  self-abandonment,  and  self-crucifixion, 
which  it  requires,  to  be  the  nm-sing  Mother  of  immortal 
souls.  We  undervalue  the  difficulty  of  our  salvation. 
We  forget  what  He  said,  of  the  short  and  narrow  way. 
We  forget  what  He  said,  of  the  "  few  there  be,  that 
find  it."  What  madness,  to  suppose,  that,  had  there 
been  any  other  way,  for  sinners,  to  be  saved,  the  Al- 
mighty Father  would  have  given  His  only  Son,  to  die, 
for  us  !  What  folly,  to  believe,  that,  if  there  could  have 
been  salvation,  in  any  other  way,  than  through  the 
Cross,  that  Blessed  One,  Who,  in  the  Garden,  shrunk 
and  shivered  at  the  cup,  which  He  had  mingled,  for 
Himself,  and  would  have  had  it  pass  from  Him,  would 
still  have  nailed  Himself,  upon  it !  What  suicide  of 
the  immortal  soul,  to  think,  that,  when  all  this  is  so, 
the  gate  of  heaven  can  still  be  won,  in  self-indul- 
gence and  self-will ;  and  many  find  the  way,  to  it ! 
Those  stern  convictions  of  the  truth  have  been  required, 
to  warrant  all,  that  has  been  done  and  suffered,  that  the 
Christian  College,  which  invokes  your  prayers,  to-day, 
might  struggle,  into  life ;  and  be  the  nui'sing  Mother 
of  young  saints.  Thank  God,  those  toils,  those  tears, 
have  not  been  all  in  vain  !  Thank  God,  the  mother's 
heart  is  cheered,  the  mother's  eyes  are  brightened,  as 


72  ALMA   MATEE. 

she  counts  His  blessings,  on  Jier  pains.  This  is  but  lier 
seventh  annual  hearth-feast ;  and  she  has  sent  ten  sons, 
to  preach  the  glorious  Gospel  of  the  grace  of  God ;  and 
seven  stand,  waiting,  to  be  sent.  The  Bar,  the  Healing 
Art,  Commerce,  Mechanics,  Agriculture,  occupy  her 
children ;  scattered,  as  widely,  as  oui'  vast  Republic 
spreads.  And,  more  than  two-thirds  of  their  number 
own,  in  the  Eucharistic  sacrament,  the  Lord,  Who  bought 
them,  with  His  blood.  Blessed  and  glorious  overpay- 
ment of  whatever  such  results  could  cost !  Not  even, 
to  be  crucified,  with  Christ,  too  much,  for  the  travail,  of 
such  children ;  and  the  joy,  over  them,  in  Heaven. 
Welcome  the  worst,  so  His  dear  lambs  be  fed,  and  sin- 
ners saved,  and  His  most  glorious  name  more  glorified  ! 

My  Children,  ii^om  this  shadowy  sketch,  of  what,  it 
is,  to  be  a  nm^sing  Mother,  to  your  souls,  you  can  infer 
your  duty,  as  her  childi'en.  The  standard,  for  the  Alma 
Matee,  will  be  the  measure,  for  the  Alumni.  How  can 
you  over-estimate  her  love  ?  How  can  you  over- value 
her  devotion  ?  How  can  you  over-pay  her  toil  ?  In- 
stant, in  season  and  out  of  season ;  in  watchings,  in 
fastings,  in  prayers;  waiting  on  your  unwillingness, 
bearing  with  your  indifference,  patient  with  your  impa- 
tience ;  asking  for  nothing,  but  your  improvement ; 
caring  for  nothing,  but  your  salvation :  indulge  the 
generous  unpulse  of  your  hearts  in  recognition  of  these 
things,  by  your  remembrance  of  her,  in  your  prayers. 
And,  not,  to  her,  but  to  her  children,  who  come  after 
you,  return  her  debt  of  love.     With  a  true  mother's 


ALMA   IVIATER.  73 

nature,  slie  lives,  but,  for  lier  offspring ;  and  has  no 
greater  joy,  tlian,  tliat  tliey  "  walk  in  truth."  You 
leave  her  hearth,  to-day ;  but,  not,  her  heart.  She  will 
follow  you,  with  blessings.  She  ^vill  pursue  you,  mth 
her  prayers.  You  shall  live,  forever,  in  her  love.  God 
bless  you ! 

The  Eighth  Baccalaureate  Address  (St.  Michael  and  all  Angels,  A.  D.  1857) 
is  not  reprinted  here.  Its  subject  was  "  A  Christian  Scholar,  and  a  Christian 
Gentleman."  It  was  a  memorial  of  Warren  Livingston,  a  member  of  the  class 
of  1852 ;  who,  after  graduating  here,  went  to  the  University  of  Oxford ;  where 
he  took  his  degree  with  honour  ;  and  returning  to  this  country  died  in  1857. 
The  address  is  not  reprinted  because  it  is  almost  wholly  in  the  words  of  an- 
other, the  Rev.  Dr.  Stubbs,  Livingston's  "  admirable  friend  and  Ecctor."  I 
add  the  opening  and  the  closing  paragraphs. 

This  is  the  eighth  Baccalaureate  Address,  at  Burlington 
College.  For  the  eighth  time,  the  degree  of  Bachelor  in  Arts 
is  conferred,  to-day.  To-day,  for  the  eighth  time,  the  garland, 
of  the  laurels,  with  its  berries  on,  is  laid  on  youthful  brows. 
"We  send  out,  to  the  Church,  and  to  the  world,  to-day,  our 
eighth  detachment  of  young  scholars.  God  be  with  them  ; 
and  bless  them ! 

With  a  fond  eye,  my  heart  has  followed  them,  wherever 
they  have  gone.  To  the  JSTortli,  to  the  South,  to  the  East,  to 
the  West,  they  have  borne  the  banner  of  then*  Alma  Mater, 
with  her  blessing.  Wherever  I  have  heard  of  them,  I  have 
heard  well  of  them.  Already,  they  begin  to  make  their  mark. 
They  are  in  Commerce.  They  are  planters.  They  are  at  the 
Bar.  They  minister  the  healing  art.  They  train  and  discipline 
the  young.  They  feed  the  flock  of  Christ.  Whatever  they 
are  doing,  they  do  well.  It  is  a  scattered  band.  But  I  feel  the 
beating  of  their  hearts.  It  is  true.  And  I  am  happy.  I  would 
have  set  my  three  and  forty  sons,  two  months  ago,  against  their 
number,  in  all  Christendom.     But  it  could  not  always  be  so : 

"  There  is  no  flock,  however  watched  and  tended, 
But  one  dead  lamb  is  there  ; 
There  is  no  fireside,  howsoe'er  defended, 
But  has  one  vacant  chair." 


74  A   CHRISTIAN   SCHOLAE, 

To-day,  I  come  before  you,  witli  the  lamentable  words  of 
the  old  patriarchs,  "  One  is  not."  To-day.  the  laurel  berries 
gleam,  with  a  sad  and  touching  contrast,  from  the  dark  foliage 
of  the  funereal  cypress,  on  the  pale,  cold  brow  of  the  dead  child. 
To-day,  I  am  to  sepulchre  our  first  departed.  Waeeen  Liv- 
ingston has  ceased  from  among  the  living.  The  theme  of  my 
discourse  to-day  will  be  the  memory  and  example  of  Warren 
Livingston.  It  harmonizes  well  with  the  occasion.  For  it  is 
the  memory  and  example  of  a  Christian  Scholar,  and  a  Chris- 
tian Gentleman. 

*         *         *         -X-         *         *         *         -x-         -:f 

My  sons,  whom  God,  in  mercy  spares,  to  my  fond  love,  I 
have  brought  before  you,  your  dead  brother,  that  you  may  take 
warning  from  his  early  death,  and  counsel  from  his  beautiful 
example.  Sternly  and  steadily,  the  tide  of  time  rolls  on.  On- 
ward it  bears  us  toward  the  Maelstrom  of  the  grave.  Which 
it  shall  bring  there  first — myself,  or  you,  or  you,  or  you,  or 
you — He  only  knows.  The  only  wisdom,  then,  is  to  be  always 
ready.     In  Bishop  Ken's  familiar  words  : 

"  Eedeem  thy  mis-spent  time,  that's  past ; 
Live  this  day,  as  if  'twere  thy  last ; 
To  improve  thy  talents,  take  due  care  ; 
'Gainst  the  great  day,  thyself  prepare." 

Tlie  very  object,  for  which  this  College  has  its  being.  In 
Warren  Livingston,  so  admirably  realized.  A  Christian  scholar, 
and  a  Christian  gentleman.  How  beautiful  the  character. 
Aim  to  accomplish  it.  Let  not  the  temptations  of  pleasure,  let 
not  the  engagements  of  business,  induce  you  to  give  up  your 
books.  You  have  but  entered  on  the  path,  by  which  they 
ought  to  lead  you.  Eemember  Cicero's  beautiful  eulogy. 
Make  it  your  own  experience.  Let  them  live  with  you.  It 
was  so  with  Livingston.  And  he  consecrated  science  and 
letters,  by  his  constant  study  of  the  Book  of  books.  His  latest 
importation  was  the  Greek  Testament,  edited  by  the  Dean  of 
Canterbury. 

A  gentleman  ;  a  Christian  gentleman.  What  a  volume,  in 
these  words.  It  is  what  Paul  was.  It  is  what  John  was.  It 
is  the  true  reflection  of  Him,  Who  was  their  model ;  and  Who 


AND    A    CHEISTIAN   GENTLEMAN.  75 

should  be  ours.  The  true  original  of  the  divinest  picture,  that 
was  ever  drawn.  "  Charity  suffereth  long,  and  is  kind." 
"  Charity  envieth  not."  "  Charity  vaunteth  not  itself."  "  Doth 
not  behave  itself  unseemly."  "  Seeketh  not  her  own."  "  Is 
not  easily  provoked."  "  Thinketh  no  evil."  "  Beareth  all 
things."  "Believeth  all  things."  "  Hopeth  all  things." 
"  Endureth  all  things."  Short  of  this,  there  is  no  Christian 
gentleman.  And,  this  fulfilled,  there  is — what  angels  are  not, 
what  we  only  can  be,  as  we  are  in  Christ,  and  child-like — the 
CHILD  OF  God. 

"  Thy  fair  example  may  we  view, 

To  teach  us  what  we  ought  to  be ; 
Make  us,  by  Thy  transforming  grace, 

0  Saviour,  daily  more  like  Thee." 


vm. 

THE  BACCALAUREATE  ADDRESS, 

AT  THE 

*  NINTH  ANNUAL  COMMENCEMENT  OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 


HOW    SHALL   A   YOUNG   MAN   CLEANSE   HIS   WAY? 

"  In  tlie  Book  of  Psalms,  we  Lave  tlie  Prayer  Book 
of  the  Universal  Cliurcli;  written,  and  set  in  order, 
for  us,  by  God,  Himself."  f  And,  more,  even,  tkan  that. 
They  were  the  Saviour's  Prayer  Book.  And,  from  the 
Cross,  He  breathed  His  soul  out,  in  their  words  :  "  My 
God,  My  God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  Me  ?  "  And, 
again,  "  Father,  into  Thy  hands,  I  commend  My  spirit." 

Among  them  all,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say,  the  one 
hundred  and  nineteenth  Psalm  is,  on  many  accounts, 
the  most  remarkable.  It  is,  by  far,  the  longest ;  con- 
taining one  hundred  and  seventy-six  verses.  It  is  divided 
into  two  and  twenty  parts  :  the  number  of  the  letters, 
in  the  Hebrew  Alphabet.  In  the  original,  every  verse, 
in  each  of  the  twenty-two  parts,  begins  with  the  same 

*  September  23d,  A.  D.  1858. 

f  The  Plain  Commentary  on  the  Book  of  Psalms. 


HOW  SHALL  A  YOUNG  MAIS"  CLEANSE  HIS  WAY?        71 

letter ;  following  the  order,  in  wliich  the  letters  stand. 
In  its  character,  it  is  a  meditation.  It  may  be  regarded, 
as  a  manual  of  religions  experience.  One  has  said,  of 
it,  it  "  may  be  a  history  of  the  inner  life  of  grace,  in  a 
man's  soul:  displaying  itself,  in  praise,  prayer,  good 
resolutions,  selfconsolation,  penitence,  obedience,  hu- 
mility."* And,  St.  Augustine  says  of  it,  "  As  often  as 
I  began  to  reflect  on  this  Psalm,  it  always  exceeded  the 
utmost  grasp  of  my  faculties.  In  proportion  as  it  seems 
more  open,  so  much  the  more  deep,  does  it  appear  to 
me ;  so  that,  I  cannot  show,  how  deep  it  is." 

A  verse  of  this  remarkable  Psalm  has  fixed  itself,  in 
my  mind,  in  connection  with  this  day ;  and  will  suggest 
the  substance  of  what  I  have  to  say.  It  is  the  beginning 
of  the  second  part.  Nothing  can  be  plainer.  Nothing 
can  be  more  pointed.  Nothing  can  be  more  practical. 
It  scarcely  needs  a  commentary.  In  this  presence,  it 
wiU  expound  and  a23ply  itself.  "  Wherewithal,  shall  a 
young  man  cleanse  his  way  ?  Even,  by  ruling  himself, 
after  Thy  Word." 

That  young  men  are  beset  with  temptations ;  that, 
to  resist  them,  they  must  rule  themselves ;  that  their 
standard  of  self  ruling  must  be  the  Word  of  God :  these 
are  the  points,  which  it  suggests ;  and,  to  these,  dear 
children,  I  would,  now,  direct  your  thoughts. 

You  are  young  men.  You  are  just  entering,  upon 
life.  Every  thing,  about  you,  is  inviting.  Every  thing, 
within  you,  is  encouraging.  You  have  no  experience 
of  the  evil,  that  is  in  the  world.     You  are  not  disposed 

*  The  Plain  Commentary  on  the  Book  of  Psalms. 


78         HOW  SHALL  A  YOUNG  MAN  CLEANSE  HIS  WAY? 

to  learn,  from  tlie  experience  of  others.  You  will  start, 
to-morrow,  to  make  trial,  for  yourselves,  of  human  life. 
May  tlie  good  Lord  graciously  direct  yom*  steps  ! 

But,  take  with  you  the  counsels  of  one,  who  loves 
you ;  who  has  long  watched  over  you  with  parental 
solicitude  ;  who  commits  you  to  the  waves  of  life  with 
parental   anxiety. 

Your  path  is  beset  with  temptations ; 

To  resist  them  you  must  rule  yourselves ; 

Your  standard  of  self-ruling  must  be  the  Word  of 
God. 

I.  Your  path  is  beset,  with  temptations.  Tempta- 
tions, to  self-reliance.  Temptations  to  self  deception. 
Temptations  to  self-indulgence.  Temptations  to  self- 
destruction.  Temptations,  to  self-reliance.  You  will 
never  know  so  much,  as  you  do  now.  You  will  never 
feel  such  confidence,  in  your  ability.  The  more  you 
know,  the  less  you  will  think,  you  know.  The  more 
you  can  do,  the  less  you  will  believe,  you  can  do.  Youth 
is,  proverbially,  rash.  It  counts  no  cost.  It  considers 
desire,  ability.  It  will  undertake  any  thing.  And,  to 
undertake,  with  it,  is  to  accomplish.  Temptations,  to 
self-deception.  Youth  judges  by  appearances.  Glitter, 
with  it,  is  gold.  It  trusts  every  one.  It  relies,  on  every 
thing.  It  forgets  the  thorn,  beneath  the  flower.  It  for- 
gets the  serpent,  in  the  grass.*  It  forgets  the  poison,  in 
the  cup.  It  drinks.  It  is  deranged.  It  dies.  Temp- 
tations, to  self-indulgence.     The  passions  glow.     The 

*  "  Latet  anguis  in  herba." 


HOW  SHALL  A  YOUNG  MAN  CLEANSE  HIS   WAY  ?         79 

world  beguiles.  Tlie  devil  tempts.  The  tree  is  "  good 
for  food."  It  is  "  pleasant  to  tlie  eyes."  It  is  "  to  be 
desired,  to  make  one  wise."  Thej'  take.  They  eat. 
And,  they  are  lost.  Temptations^  to  self-destruction. 
^'  The  wages  of  sin  is  death."  "  The  soul  that  sinneth, 
it  shall  die."  From  self-reliance,  self  deception.  From 
selfdeception,  selfindulgence.  From  self-indulgence, 
selfdestruction. 

II.  Such,  my  beloved,  is  the  short  and  easy  path,  by 
which,  the  feet  of  youth  are  cheated,  down,  to  death, 
through  manifold  temptations.  To  resist  them,  you 
must  rule  yourselves.  You  may  turn  the  handle  of  a 
coffee-mill.  You  may  open  the  valves,  in  a  steam  en- 
gine. You  may  move  the  rudder  of  a  ship.  The  obe- 
dient machine  is  ruled,  at  human  will.  The  American 
horse-tamer  subdues  the  fiercest  steed.  The  gentle 
mother  leads  her  darling,  with  the  touch  of,  just,  the 
smallest  finger.  The  Russian  serf  is  whipped  into  sub- 
mission. Galileo  was  imprisoned.  In  which  of  these 
ways  can  the  spirit  of  a  man  be  ruled  %  How  vain  the 
attempt  of  Aristotle,  to  subdue,  in  Alexander,  the 
yearning,  for  more  worlds,  to  conquer !  Which  of 
Napoleon's  Marshals,  the  most  trusted,  the  most  hon- 
oured, could  have  kept  him  back,  from  Waterloo  !  How 
powerless  the  miracles  of  Moses,  to  move  Pharaoh's 
hardened  heart !  No.  Men  are  moral  agents.  And  a 
moral  agent  rules  itself  In  vain,  the  manacle,  or  rod. 
In  vain,  the  threats  of  tyrants.  In  vain,  a  mother's 
tears.     The  will  must  yield.     The  man  must  rule  him- 


80        HOW  SHALL  A  YOUNG  MAN"  CLEANSE  HIS  WAY  ? 

self.      "  Wherewitlial  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his 
way  ?     Even  by  ruling  himself,  after  Thy  Word." 

Young  men,  to  resist  the  temptations  of  the  world, 
you  must  rule  yourselves.  It  is  the  only  conquest, 
worthy  of  a  moral  nature.  The  only  conquest,  in  which 
freedom  can  be  won.  The  only  victory,  that  con- 
quers peace.  Alexander  won  Arbela.  The  wine-cup 
conquered  him.  Lodi,  Marengo,  Austerlitz,  were  the 
youth's  play  of  Napoleon.  The  wife  of  his  youth  was 
sacrificed  to  his  ambition.  You  must  rule  yourselves, 
young  men :  or  you  will  live  in  bondage ;  and,  die 
slaves.  And,  it  is  hard,  to  do.  Archimedes  would 
engage  to  move  the  world ;  give  him,  but,  a  place,  out- 
side of  it,  to  stanl  on.  To  rule  yourselves,  you  must 
go  out  of  self.  You  must  plant  yourselves,  on  principle. 
You  must  take  hold  of  truth.  You  must  say.  That  is 
^\Tong.  I  will  not  do  it.  This  is  right.  It  shall  be 
done.  Luther  would  be  at  Worms,  if  there  were  as 
many  devils,  there,  as  tiles,  upon  the  houses.  Andrew 
Marvel,  w^hen  he  showed  the  courtier  his  neck  of  mut- 
ton, and  greens,  calmly  replied,  "  While  I  can  dine  on 
these,  your  master  cannot  buy  me  !  "  And  that  was 
grand  and  glorious,  in  old  Fabricius ;  when  pointing  to 
the  sun,  at  noon,  he  said,  "  You  may  tui'n  that ;  but, 
not,  Fabricius,  from  Ms  course  !  " 

III.  But,  to  be  ruled,  implies  a  rule.  The  nile  must 
be  straight,  that  makes  straight  lines.  And  straight  is 
the  same,  always ;  always,  one.     It  is  as  true,  in  morals. 


HOW  SHALL  A  YOUNG  MAN  CLEANSE  HIS  WAY  ?         81 

There  is  only  one  straight  line ;  God's  will.  In  ruling 
yourselves^  dear  children^  you  must  do  it^  after  the  Word 
of  God.  "  Wherewithal  shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his 
way  ?     Even,  by  ruling  himself,  after  Thy  Word." 

Men  ride  themselves^  hy  self  It  is  the  meanest  of 
all  rules.  It  dwarfs  the  mind.  It  petrifies  the  heart. 
It  Mils  the  soul.  They  rule  themselves^  hy  fashion.  It 
is  an  ignis  fatuus.  It  leads,  you  know  not  where. 
Never,  in  the  same  direction,  twice.  They  rule  them- 
selves.^ hy  expediency.  It  is  a  shifting  sand-bar.  It  is 
the  glimmer  of  the  moon,  upon  the  dancing  waves.  It 
is  the  play  of  sunlight,  through  the  quivering  vine  leaves. 
It  is  "  a  piece  of  chalk."  In  size,  just  what  one  thinks 
it.  They  rule  themselves^  hy  imhlio  opinion.  Then, 
how  many  masters  !  Then,  what  tyrants ;  all  of  them  ! 
Then,  what  uncertainty  !  Then,  what  double-minded 
ness  !  Then,  what  degradation  !  Then,  what  slavery 
They  rule  tliemselves^hy  human  precedents  and  patterns, 
And  there  are,  thank  God,  noble  examples,  upon  record 
and  some,  still,  spared,  to  us.  St.  Paul.  Athanasius, 
Andrewes.  Wilson.  Herbert.  Boyle.  Hooker.  How- 
ard. Hobart.  Keble.  Florence  Nightingale.  Mrs 
Hill.  Miss  Dix.  But,  they  are  human,  all.  And,  fal 
lible.  And,  frail.  And  we  must  only  foUow  them,  as 
they  were  followers  of  Christ. 

One  rule  there  is,  unerring.  Only,  one.  One  fixed 
star.  One  perfect  mirror.  One  ray  of  light.  It  is  the 
Word  of  God.  To  gaze  upon  it,  is  to  have  the  eye  on 
heaven.    To  look  into  it,  is  to  see  the  very  soul.     To 

VOL.  IV. 6 


82        HOW  SHALL  A  YOUNG  MAN  CLEANSE  HIS  WAY  ? 

walk  by  it,  is  to  be  free  from  error.  To  conform  the 
life,  to  its  precepts,  and  to  set  the  heart,  on  its  promises, 
is  to  anticipate  the  peace  of  heaven ;  and  to  secure  its 
bliss. 

"  Thy  Word  is,  to  my  feet,  a  lamp, 

The  way  of  truth,  to  show  : 
A  watch-light,  to  point  out  the  path, 

In  which,  I  ought  to  go. 
My  heart,  with  early  zeal,  began. 

Thy  statutes  to  obey  ; 
And,  till  my  course  of  life  is  done, 

Shall  keep  Thine  upright  way." 

Dear  Children,  the  providential  ordering  of  your 
lives  has  been  replete  with  blessings.  You  were  made 
children  of  God,  in  holy  baptism.  You  have  received 
"  the  laying  on  of  hands,"  for  the  gift  of  the  Holy 
Ghost.  You  have  been  fed,  as  children,  with  "  the 
children's  bread."  At  home,  the  sanctity  of  a  religious 
hearth  has  been  your  constant  atmosphere.  And, 
here,  the  pastoral  eye  has  watched,  the  pastoral  hand 
has  guided,  and  the  pastoral  heart  has  blessed,  you. 
You  will  not  disappoint  these  blessed  auspices.  You 
will  not  turn  away,  ft'om  this  plain  path  of  pleasantness 
and  peace.  You  will  not  jeopardize  "  that  good  part ;  " 
which  you  have  chosen,  with  beloved  Mary.  Keep 
ever,  in  your  eye,  the  Cross,  Which  purchased  your 
redemption.  Be  followers  of  the  Lamb,  wherever  He 
may  lead  you.  Never  trust  yourselves,  beyond  the 
brooding  of  the  Dove ;  Whose  wings  have  been  your 


HOW  SHALL  A  YOUNG  MAN  CLEANSE  HIS  WAY?         83 

shelter  and  your  solace.  It  is  tlie  manliest  thing  to  be 
religious.  It  is  more  than  that.  It  is  the  Godliest. 
"Which  means,  the  Godlikest ;  the  most  like  God. 
Be  men,  in  manliness.  Be  men,  for  religion.  Be  men 
of  God.     My  sons,  God  bless  you  ! 


I. 

THE  ^  FIRST  ADDRESS, 

f  TO  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


A    PEKFECT    WOMAN    NOBLY    PLANNED. 

My  childi^en,  you  can  never  know,  your  friends  and 
parents  do  not  know,  only  God  knows,  tke  mingled  feel- 
ings wliicli  crowd  in  upon  my  heart,  to-night. — It  is 
much  to  be  the  parent  of  a  child.  To  receive  from  God 
a  soul,  to  be  trained  up,  and  nurtured,  and  accounted 
for  to  Him.  To  know,  that  as  that  trust  shall  be  dis- 
charged, one  shall  be  added  to  the  throng,  that  ever- 
more suiTOund  the  Throne,  with  songs  of  joy  and  praise ; 
or  else  go,  howling  through  eternity,  in  hopeless  and 
unutterable  woe.  Oh,  it  is  very  much  to  be  the  parent 
of  a  child !  But  there  are  compensations,  too.  The 
sense  of  being  towards  it,  as  God.  The  power  which 
lies  in  undivided,  undisputed  right.  The  more  than 
magnetism  of  nature's  sacred  spell.     The  daily  avenues 

*  September,  A.  D.  1845. 

\  These  Addresses  did  not  begin  with  the  first  Class  ;  nor  were  they  delivered 
to  every  class,  regularly,  until  A.  D.  1851.  At  that  time,  the  graduations  were 
yearly,  instead  of  at  the  end  of  each  term  ;  and  the  addresses,  annual. 


A   PERFECT    WOMAN   NOBLY    PLANNED.  85 

that  open,  heart  to  heart.  The  hoiu'ly  opportuni- 
ties, that  knit  and  mould  them  into  one.  The 
confidence,  that  cannot  know  a  doubt.  The  sympathy, 
which  none  beside  can  share.  And,  more  than  all, 
God's  unconditioned  pledge,  that  due  parental  care  shall 
never  fail  of  its  reward.  "  Train  up  a  child,  in  the  way 
he  should  go ;  and  when  he  is  old,  he  will  not  depart 
from  it."  These  are  the  compensations,  which  relieve 
and  crown,  and  bless,  the  parent's  awful  charge ;  and 
justify  the  Psalmist,  when  he  says,  that  "  children  "  "  are 
a  heritage  and  gift,"  that  comes  to  us,  du^ect  from  God. 
But,  now,  there  come  to  us  twenty,  or  fifty,  or  an  hun- 
dred childi^en ;  to  sit  about  our  feet,  to  be  gathered 
round  our  knees,  to  grow  up  to  our  hand,  to  have  us  in 
the  place  to  them  of  parents.  They  are  far  from  home. 
They  are  of  tender  age.  They  are  to  be  cared  for  'in 
their  bodies.  They  are  to  be  cared  for  as  to  theii-  minds. 
Their  hearts  are  to  be  cared  for.  Above  all,  they  have 
immortal  souls,  which  must  be  cared  for,  with  our  ut- 
most care.  Daily,  they  gather  at  our  board.  Daily, 
they  sport  about  our  paths.  Daily,  we  aid  them  in 
their  intellectual  developement.  Daily,  we  minister  the 
varied  store  of  knowledge,  to  their  minds.  Daily,  with 
dawning  and  declining  day,  they  kneel  ■with  us  in 
prayers.  We  occupy,  towards  them,  whatever  in  the 
social  nature  with  which  God  has  framed  us,  is  most 
responsible  and  most  endeai'ing,  in  office  and  relation. 
We  are  their  nui'ses.  We  are  their  teachers.  We  are 
their  next  friends.  We  exercise,  in  their  behalf,  at  once, 
the  Pastoral  and  the  Parental  duties.     As,  in  that 


86  A   PERFECT    WOMAN   NOBLY   PLANKED. 

sweetest  sacred  picture,  "  the  one  little  eioe  lamh^''  wMcli 
tlie  poor  man  "  noui'islied  up,"  "  grcAV  up  together  with 
him,  and  with  his  children ;  it  did  eat  of  his  own  meat, 
and  drank  of  his  oa^ti  cup,  and  lay  in  his  bosom,  and 
loas  unto  him  as  a  daughter^  Can  we  be  human,  and 
not  feel  these  things  ?  Can  we  have  hearts,  and  all 
the  tendrils  of  these  living  plants  not  find  them  out, 
and  fill  them  wdth  their  love  ?  And  when  they  have 
thus  grown  to  us,  as  ivy  to  the  wall,  and  wound  them- 
selves all  in  with  our  "  most  dear  heart-strings,"  how 
could  we  be  so  much  as  human,  and  not  feel,  at  such  an 
hour,  wdien  they  come  up  here,  for  the  last  time,  to  re- 
ceive our  counsels  and  our  blessing,  that  we  are  parting 
with  a  portion  of  our  life  ? — No,  my  dear  childi^en,  you 
can  never  know,  your  friends  and  parents  do  not  know, 
only  God  knows,  the  mingled  feelings  which  crowd  in 
upon  our  hearts,  to-night. 

But  we  too  have  our  compensations,  we  have  looked 
upon  these  children,  week  by  week,  as  they  have  grown 
in  stature  and  in  wisdom.  We  have  watched  the  open- 
ing bud,  as  it  gave  out  new  fi-agi'ance  and  new  beauty. 
We  have  felt — what  language  cannot  utter — the  respon- 
sive pulse  of  their  young  hearts,  in  all  the  fulness  of  its 
unreserving  and  undoubted  confidence.  We  have 
marked  the  tottering  step,  as  it  grew^  more  elastic,  and 
more  firm.  AVe  have  marked  the  stammering  tongue, 
as  it  grew  more  distinct  and  full.  We  have  beheld  the 
expanding  mind.  We  have  beheld  the  improving  taste. 
We  have  beheld  the  ripening  judgment.  We  have  be- 
held the  increasing  store  of  knoAvledge.     We  have  be- 


A   PERFECT    WOMAN   NOBLY   PLANNED.  87 

held  tlie  advancing  work  of  grace.  We  liave  gone  with 
them  to  the  house  of  God.  We  have  received  their 
youthfal  vows.  We  have  signed  them  with  the  sacred 
Cross.  We  have  laid  our  hands  upon  theii'  trembling 
heads.  We  have  broken  for  them  the  bread  of  life,  and 
given  them  drink  from  the  cup  of  salvation.  And,  if 
we  are  now  to  part  "with  them,  it  is  to  send  them,  in 
the  purity  and  freshness  of  their  youth ;  improved  in 
health,  improved  in  manners,  and  improved  in  mind ; 
grown,  as  we  trust,  in  grace,  even  more  than  they  have 
grown  in  stature,  to  be  the  pride  of  parents,  and  the  joy 
of  friends,  and  the  delight  of  home ;  to  repay,  a  thou- 
sand fold,  in  gifts  of  learning,  and  in  graces  of  de- 
portment, and  in  the  riches  of  all  virtue,  the  care  and 
cost,  the  longings  and  the  yearnings,  of  their  absence. 
To  be,  to  younger  brothers,  and  to  younger  sisters,  kind 
protectors,  patient  teachers,  exemplary  guides ;  to  be, 
to  father,  and  to  mother,  stays  of  their  age,  lights  of 
their  hearth,  the  charmers  of  their  hearts  ;  to  adorn  and 
dignify  society ;  and  to  be  "  polished  corners "  in  the 
house  of  God.  These  are  the  compensations  of  our  lot, 
which  reconcile  us  to  the  pangs  of  parting,  and  the  pains 
of  loss.  And,  for  these,  we  feel  that  we  can  smile  now, 
through  our  tears ;  and  say,  to  these  young  daughters 
of  our  heart,  Go,  and  the  Lord  be  with  you  ! 

Beloved  ones,  as  the  best  parting  words  that  I  can  ut- 
ter— the  memory,  which  I  would  have  you  bear  from  me, 
and  bear  about  with  you,  through  life — accept,  to-night, 
as  from  the  hand  of  one  whom  I  may  call  my  friend, 
the  solace  and  the  glory  of  our  dry  and  dusty  age,  the 


88  A   PEKFECT   WOMAN   NOBLY   PLANNED. 

Poet  WoEDSwoETH,*  tMs  breatMng  portraiture  of  wliat  a 
woman  ouglit  to  be,  what  I  would  liave  you  be,  what  eacli 
of  you,  tlirougli  grace,  may  be : 

"  She  was  a  Phantom  of  delight, 
When  first  she  gleam'd  upon  my  sight ; 
A  lovely  Apparition,  sent 
To  be  a  moment's  ornament ; 
Her  eyes  as  stars  of  Twilight  fair ; 
Like  Twilight's,  too,  her  dusky  hair  ; 
But  all  things  else  about  her  drawn 
From  May-time  and  the  cheerful  Dawn ; 
A  dancing  shape,  an  Image  gay, 
To  haunt,  to  startle,  and  way-lay. 

"  I  saw  her,  upon  nearer  view, 
A  Spirit,  yet  a  Woman  too  ! 
Her  household  motions  light  and  free, 
And  steps  of  virgin-liberty  ; 
A  countenance  in  which  did  meet 
Sweet  records,  promises  as  sweet ; 
A  creature  not  too  bright  or  good 
For  human  nature's  daily  food  ; 
For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles, 
Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears,  and  smiles. 

"  And  now  I  see  with  eye  serene 
The  very  pulse  of  the  machine  ; 
A  Being  breathing  thoughtful  breath, 
A  Traveller  between  life  and  death  ; 
The  reason  firm,  the  temperate  will. 
Endurance,  foresight,  strength,  and  skill ; 
A  perfect  woman,  nobly  plann'd. 
To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command  ; 
And  yet  a  Spirit,  still,  and  bright 
With  something  of  an  angel-light." 
*  Moxon's  London  edition,  1840,  ii.  88. 


A   PERFECT   WOMAlSr   NOBLY    PLANNED.  89 

Hang  tliis  sweet  picture,  from  your  necks,  my  daugh- 
ters. Imprint  it  on  your  hearts.  Live  yom^selves  into 
it.  Be  not  the  butterflies  of  fashion.  Be  not  that  low- 
est reach  of  our  humanity,  mere  women  of  the  world. 
Let  home  content  you,  as  yom^  empire.  Home  duties 
occupy  your  minds.  Home  pleasures  satisfy  your  hearts. 
Study  the  Marys  of  the  Scripture.  With  the  one,  find 
yourselves  often  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  With  the  other, 
keep  His  sayings  ever  in  your  heart.  So  shall  you  re- 
alize, to  all  who  love  you,  and  who  live  upon  your  love, 
the  breathing  picture  of  the  Poet,  as  perfect  women, 
nobly  planned.  So  shall  you  earn,  through  the  abound- 
ing grace  of  Christ,  that  record,  above  eveiy  record, 
that  was  ever  traced  on  earth  :  "  Mary  hath  chosen 
that  good  part,  which  shall  not  be  taken  away  from 
her." 


IL 

THE  SECOND  ADDRESS, 

*  TO  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


THE    CHRISTIAN    WOMAN. 

My  children,  you  have  completed  the  studies,  you 
have  fulfilled  the  discipline,  you  have  sustained  the  ex- 
aminations of  St.  Mary's  Hall ;  and  you  have  received 
the  testimonial  of  our  satisfaction,  with  fall  and  fervent 
commendation  "  to  the  favour  and  blessing  of  God, 
throu2;h  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  You  are  not  to  look 
on  this  transaction,  as  one  that  shall  dissolve  the  bond 
of  love,  which  has  knit  us  so  long  in  one.  We  still 
regard  you,  and  shall  ever  claim  you  as  our  daughters. 
Should  you  return  to  us,  to  carry  on  the  education, 
which  earth  can  but  hegiii^  we  shall  receive  you  with  a 
hearty  welcome,  as  children  that  return  to  their  own 
father's  house.  Wherever  you  may  go,  we  shall  go 
mth  you,  with  our  love  and  prayers.  We  shall  rejoice 
to  hear  that  you  are  happy^  We  shall  mingle  tears 
with  yours,  when  sorrow  shall  befal  you.     We  shall 

*  March  30,  A.  D.  1846. 


THE    CHKI6TIAN    WOMAN.  91 

pursue  you  with  a  blessing ;  and  our  fondest  Avish  sliall 
be,  to  be  remembered  in  your  prayers.  Dear  cbLldren, 
sense  and  sight  are  but  the  accidents  of  our  mortality. 
The  heart  takes  in  all  space ;  takes  in  all  time.  No 
seas  can  separate,  no  mountains  can  divide,  congenial 
souls.  We  follow  our  beloved  upon  wings  that  vie 
with  steam.  We  send  our  thoughts  where  magnetism 
fails  to  come.  We  compass  earth  with  sympathies. 
We  mount  to  heaven,  and  bear  them  up  with  prayers. 

Go  where  you  will,  my  children,  you  will  bear  us 
with  yourselves.  You  will  be  everywhere  regarded  as 
the  daughters  of  St.  Maey's  Hall.  True  hearts,  that 
never  saw  her  walls,  will  welcome  you,  for  Jesus'  sake. 
Eyes  will  be  brightened  at  the  name,  and  hands  will 
grasp  you  with  a  kindlier  and  more  cordial  greeting. 
For  the  love  of  Chiist  is  stronger  than  the  holiest  bond 
of  natui'e :  and  the  conviction  that  this  Institution  is  a 
Christian  nursery,  favoured  and  blessed  of  God,  has 
spread  as  widely  as  its  name  is  known ;  and  the  broad 
circle  broadens  every  year.  Into  your  faithful  hands, 
dear  daughters,  with  your  loving  hearts,  I  cheerfully 
commit  her  honour,  and  repose  her  interests.  You 
have  made  good  use  of  your  opportunities.  You  have 
taken  kindly  to  our  discipline.  You  have  entwined  the 
best  affections  of  your  hearts  with  ours.  I  am  a  man  of 
many  toils  and  many  cares — nothing  compared  mth 
those  which  holier  men  than  I  have  borne,  in  every 
age,  for  the  same  holy  cause — and,  oftentimes,  the  load 
of  toil  and  care,  the  anxious  thought,  the  unequal  strife, 
the  unkind  return,  the  yoke  that  galls  the  neck,  the 


92  THE    CHRISTIAN   WOMAN. 

load  that  wears  the  brain,  the  iron  that  divides  the 
soul,  combine  to  overtask  and  crush  the  man.  But, 
when  I  catch  the  sunlight  of  your  smile ;  when  the 
sweet  music  of  your  voices  falls  upon  my  ear ;  when  I 
am  met  with  words  and  looks  of  love,  that  cany  all 
your  heart  out  with  them,  and  take  mine  all  back,  I 
lose  the  sense  of  weariness :  I  wonder  that  I  ever 
thought  of  carefulness ;  I  cast  the  load  from  off  me ; 
and  stand  up,  erect  and  square,  a  match  for  mountains, 
and  the  master  of  myself  For  I  look  out  upon  the 
face  of  human  life.  I  see  what  our  poor  fallen 
nature  is.  I  see  what  medicine  it  needs.  And,  meas- 
uring, then,  your  influence  for  good  with  other 
hearts,  by  their  electric  power  with  mine,  I  feel,  that, 
had  I  asked  of  God  His  choicest  gift  of  service  for  man- 
kind, I  could  have  asked  nothing  to  compare  with 
that  which  you  may  be,  as  Christian  daughters.  Chris- 
tian sisters.  Christian  women,  to  console,  to  cheer,  to 
elevate,  to  dignify,  to  bless  your  kind.  It  is  as  Chris- 
tian women  that  you  are  to  do  it.  Beauty  of  person 
will  attract.  Grace  of  manners  will  commend.  The 
force  of  intellect  will  command  respect.  Store  of 
attainments  will  secure  applause.  But  that  which 
shall  take  hold  of  human  nature ;  that  which  shall  have 
influence  mth  the  age ;  that  which  shall  bless  society 
and  make  it  better ;  that  which  shall  swell  the  tri- 
umphs of  the  Church ;  that  which  shall  gain  new  tro- 
phies for  the  Cross  ;  that  which  shall  charm  the  earth ; 
that  which  shall  shine  in  heaven ;  must  come  of  Chris- 
tian character,  and  be  the  work  of  Christian  influence. 


J 
i 


THE   CHEISTIAN    WOMAN.  93 

And,  never  is  Christian  character  so  lovely,  and  never 
is  Christian  influence  so  powerful,  for  good,  as  when  it 
wins  its  gentle  way — pervading  like  the  light,  distilling 
like  the  dew — in  all  the  nameless  graces,  the  uncounted 
charities,  the  unconscious  charms,  the  irresistible  attrac- 
tions of  a  modest,  gentle,  faithful,  lo^dng,  holy.  Christian 
WOMAN.  I  sketch  her  to  you  as  a  poet  of  our  own  * 
has  sketched  one,  and  would  have  you  frame  yourselves 
upon  her  model. 

"  Great  feelings  hath  she  of  her  own, 
Which  lesser  souls  may  never  know, 
God  giveth  them  to  her  alone, 
And  sweet  they  are  as  any  tone 

Wherewith  the  wind  may  choose  to  blow. 

"  Yet,  in  herself  she  dwelleth  not. 

Although  no  home  were  half  so  fair ; 

No  simplest  duty  is  forgot, 

Life  hath  no  dear  and  lonely  spot, 
That  does  not  in  her  sunshine  share. 

"  She  doeth  little  kindnesses, 

Which  most  leave  undone  or  despise ; 

For  naught  that  sets  one  heart  at  ease, 

And  giveth  happiness  or  peace. 
Is  low-esteemed  in  her  eyes, 

"  She  hath  no  scorn  of  common  things, 
And  though  she  seem  of  other  birth. 

Round  us  her  heart  entwines  and  clings, 

And  patiently  she  folds  her  wings. 
To  tread  the  humble  paths  of  earth. 

*  Lowell. 


94  THE   CHEISTIAN    WOJMAIS:, 

"  Blessing,  she  is  ;  God  made  her  so  : 

And  deeds  of  week-day  holiness 
Fall  from  her,  noiseless  as  the  snow, 
Nor  hath  she  ever  chanced  to  know, 

That  aught  were  eaiser  than  to  bless. 

"  On  nature  doth  she  muse  and  brood, 
With  such  a  still  and  love-clear  eye, 
She  is  so  gentle  and  so  good, 
The  very  flowers  in  the  wood 

Do  bless  her  with  their  sympathy. 

"  She  is  a  woman — one  in  whom 

The  spring  time  of  her  childish  years. 
Hath  never  lost  its  fresh  perfume, 
Though  knowing  well  that  life  hath  room 
For  many  blights  and  tears. 

"  And  youth  in  her  a  home  will  find, 

Where  he  may  dwell  eternally ; 
Her  soul  is  not  of  that  weak  kind 
Which  better  love  the  life  behind. 

Than  that  which  is,  or  is  to  be." 

Go  out,  my  daugliters,  in  tlie  light  of  Cliristian 
knowledge,  and  in  the  strength  of  Cliristian  gi-ace,  to 
be,  in  meekness,  gentleness,  and  purity,  in  holiness,  and 
charity,  and  piety,  such  women  as  this  picture  shows ; 
such  as  St.  Peter  would  have  conunended  for  that  "  or- 
nament of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which  is,  in  the 
sight  of  God,  of  great  price  ;  "  such  as  St.  Peter's  Lord 
would  have  attracted  to  Him,  as  He  did  the  two  who 
dwelt  in  Bethany ;  such  as  were  latest  at  His  Cross, 
and  earliest  at  His  grave.     It  is  so  that  you  will  carry 


THE    CHRISTIAN    WOMAN.  95 

out,  into  its  fair  result,  tlie  good  work  you  have  here 
begun.  It  is  so  that  you  will  justify  the  care  and  pains 
of  tender  parents  and  kind  friends.  It  is  so  that  you 
will  overj^ay  our  utmost  efforts  for  your  good.  It  is  so 
that  you  will  realize  on  earth  that  beautiful  expression 
of  the  Psalmist,  as  the  "  polished  corners  of  the  temple ; " 
and  so  that,  through  the  precious  purchase  of  the  Son 
of  God,  incarnate,  for  our  sins,  you  will  forever  grow 
and  shine  as  living  temples  in  the  heavens. 

"  Mere  human  energy  shall  faint. 
And  youthful  vigor  cease, 
But  those  who  wait  upon  the  Lord, 
In  strength  shall  still  increase. 

"  They  with  unwearied  step  shall  tread 
The  path  of  life  divine ; 
With  growing  ardour  onward  move, 
With  growing  brightness  shine. 

"  On  eagles'  wings,  they  mount,  they  soar 
On  wings  of  faith  and  love  ; 
Till,  past  the  sphere  of  earth  and  sin, 
They  rise  to  heaven  above." 


m. 

THE  THIRD  ADDRESS, 

*T0  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


THE    SPIRIT   OF    LITTLE    OHILDEEN. 

My  claugliters,  you  are  come  to-night,  to  hear  my 
last  instructions,  and  to  receive  my  parting  counsel. 
You  come,  as  children  to  a  father,  and  I  speak  to  you, 
as  a  father,  to  dear  children.  "  Why  did  you  not  call 
us,  your  children  ?"  said  one  of  you  to  me,  when  I  had 
inadvertently  addressed  you,  as  "  young  ladies."  It 
was  a  question  to  my  heart ;  and  even  yet  its  pulses 
tremble  to  the  echo. 

It  is  not  true,  though  Shakspeare's  self  f  has  said  it, 
that  "  a  rose,  by  any  other  name,  woidd  smell  as  sweet." 
You  would  not  be  to  me  what  you  have  been,  by  any 
other  name :  and  if,  as  I  well  know,  your  hearts  have 
knit  themselves  to  mine,  in  love's  electric  chain,  "  this  is 
the  only  witchcraft  I  have  used." 

This  little  word,  the  elemental  tone  of  nature,  which 

*  September  29,  A.  D.  1846. 

f  Rather,  his  Juliet ;  for  he  knew  better. 


J 
i 


THE    SPIRIT    OF   LITTLE    CHILDREN.  97 

attunes  its  inmost  strings,  and  sways  the  pulses  of  their 
joy  or  grief,  contains  and  comprehends  all  I  design  or 
hope  for,  from  God's  blessing,  on  the  work  of  education. 
I  would  as  soon  sit  down,  with  royal  Canute,  on  the 
sands  of  the  sea-shore,  and  hope  to  bid  the  waves  roll 
back,  and  be  obeyed,  as  come  to  you,  to  win  your  hearts, 
and  do  them  good,  by  any  other  term.  Did  I  not  mean 
to  be  a  father  to  these  little  ones,  that  sit  about  my  feet ; 
did  I  not  hope  that  they  would  be  my  children,  I  woidd 
send  them  off  to-morrow,  and  shut  up  these  halls  ;  and 
still,  at  once,  the  hammer  and  the  saw.  Why,  God 
Himself  attempts  not  our  salvation,  upon  any  other 
terms.  His  revelation  of  Himself  to  us,  is,  as  our  Fa- 
ther. His  claim  upon  us,  for  our  good,  is,  as  His  chil- 
dren. When  His  beloved  only  Son,  had  purchased  for 
us,  with  His  blood,  the  hope  of  pardon  and  eternal  life, 
we  must  come  to  it,  through  the  second  birth,  in  Holy 
Baptism ;  and  become  as  little  children,  if  we  hope  to 
be  with  Him,  in  heaven.  It  is  the  one  relation,  which 
all  human  kind  must  own ;  for  all,  as  parents,  or  as 
children,  have  confessed  its  power :  and  it  contains  all 
others,  as  the  bloom  and  ft'agrance  of  the  rose  blush  into 
beauty,  and  distil,  in  liquid  odour,  from  the  bursting 
bud.  There  is  no  limit  to  the  power  of  this  relation.  It 
is  adequate  to  all  emergencies.  It  will  sustain  all  trials. 
It  can  never  fail.  It  springs,  immortal,  from  the  heart ; 
and  gathers,  as  it  goes,  in  beauty,  truth,  and  j)ower.  I 
plant  myself  upon  it,  with  unfaltering  foot.  I  am  im- 
pregnable, while  I  stand  there.  My  very  standing-place 
is  victory.   Nature  must  change,  and  God  Himself  must 

VOL.  IV. 7 


98  THE   SPIEIT   OF   LITTLE   CinLDEEN. 

fail,  before  tliat  cliarm  can  lose  its  power,  or  virtue  cease 
to  come  from  it. 

And  now,  my  daughters,  tliat  I  have  confessed  to 
you,  as  that  strong  man  of  sacred  story,  the  secret  of 
my  strength,  let  me,  in  the  few  words  which  close  this 
parting  hour,  commend  to  you  its  undecaying,  and  incal- 
culable worth.  Seek — as  my  latest  counsel,  with  my 
parting  benediction — to  be  the  comfort  and  the  charm 
of  life,  to  be  your  fitness  for  eternity,  and  foretaste  of 

its  joys,  THE  SPIEIT  OF  LITTLE  CHILDEEN. 

"  Lord,  forever  at  Thy  side, 

Let  my  place  and  portion  be ; 
Strip  me  of  the  robe  of  pride, 
Clothe  me  with  humility. 

"  Humble  as  a  little  child, 

Weaned  from  the  mother's  breast, 
By  no  subtleties  beguiled. 
On  Thy  faithful  word  I  rest." 

i.  Tlie  spirit  of  little  children  is  a  spirit  of  depen- 
dence. That  it  might  be  so,  God  made  them  helpless. 
They  die,  if  they  be  not  cared  for.  Is  it  so  much  less 
so  with  ourselves  ?  Is  not  man's  breath  "  in  his  nos- 
trils "  ?  Is  he  not  "  crushed  before  the  moth  "  ?  Can  he 
foresee  the  issues  of  an  hour  ?  Can  he  ward  off  the 
shafts  of  death,  the  effluvia  of  disease,  the  cloud  of  sor- 
row ?  When  his  best  beloved  is  attacked  with  typhus, 
or  with  hectic,  is  he  not  helpless  to  relieve  ?  "When  the 
fire  has  undermined  the  sleeping-room,  or  the  sea  gains 
upon  the  wi^eck,  is  he  not  helpless  to  deliver  ?    And 


I 


THE   SPIEIT   OF   LITTLE   CHILDEEN.  99 

shall  such  make  claim  of  independence  ?  Shall  such 
forget  their  helplessness  ?  Shall  such  leave  God  out  of 
their  thoughts  ?  Never  be  tempted,  my  dear  children, 
.to  lose  sight  of  your  entire  dependence,  for  life,  and 
health,  and  all  things,  upon  God ;  but  cast  your  care  on 
Him,  Who  careth  for  you. 

ii.  The  spirit  of  little  children  is  a  spirit  of  confi- 
dence. They  have  not  yet  wandered  off  from  God.  They 
have  not  yet  lost  the  sense  of  His  benignant  smile,  as  it 
beamed  on  them  from  a  parent's  face.  They  have  not 
yet  learned  life's  saddest  lesson,  to  distrust.  Better,  a 
thousand  times,  its  worst  experience,  than  an  untrusting 
and  suspicious  temper.  Better  to  die  of  injuries,  than 
live,  a  victim  to  their  fear.  Be  not  afraid  to  trust. 
Follow  the  charity  which  never  thinketh  evil.  Have 
faith  in  God.  It  will  protect  you  from  the  treachery  of 
men.  Fearing  no  evil,  you  will  find  none.  There  is 
no  stonger  panoply  against  a  wicked  world,  than  unsus- 
pecting innocence.  It  disarms  design.  It  foils  attempt. 
It  overcomes  attack.  It  triumphs,  through  its  very  help- 
lessness. A  maddened  elephant  has  been  observed  to 
take  an  infant  in  his  trunk,  and  lay  it  softly  in  the 
grass,  that  it  might  rush  to  the  destruction  of  its  perse- 
cutors. 

iii.  The  spirit  of  little  children  is  a  spirit  of  humil- 
ity. They  think  but  little  of  themselves,  till  fools  and 
flatterers  have  spoiled  them.  They  blush  at  compli- 
ments. They  shrink  from  notice.  They  retire  from 
observation.  They  avoid  attention.  They  do  not  think 
you  can  mean  tliem.     They  had  rather  you  meant  any 


100  THE   SPIRIT    OF   LITTLE    CHILDREN. 

otlier,  Tliey  liave  no  greediness  of  gain.  They  have  no 
thirst  for  honour.  The  simplest  joys  content  them,  and 
the  most  retired  and  shaded  paths.  Oh,  what  a  loss  of 
comfort,  when  the  child's  humility  is  lost !  Oh,  what 
a  waste  of  life,  is  the  pursuit  of  artificial  and  unnatural 
interests  !  Oh,  what  a  weariness,  and  fretfulness,  and 
restlessness,  in  the  vain  strife  of  fashion  and  of  folly. 
"  It  is  but  lost  labour,  that  ye  haste  to  rise  up  early, 
and  so  late  take  rest,  and  eat  the  bread  of  carefulness ; 
for  so.  He  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

iv.  The  sjnrit  of  little  children  is  a  spirit  of  hopeful- 
ness.  Theii'  trusting  nature,  and  their  few  and  sunple 
wants,  prepare  them  well  for  this.  They  meet  no  storm, 
before  it  comes.  They  see  no  cloud,  before  it  rises.  They 
find  all  seasons,  Spring ;  and  live  in  sunshine  every  day. 

"  Gay  hope  is  theirs,  by  fancy  fed, 

Less  pleasing  when  possest, 
The  tear  forgot  as  soon  as  shed, 

The  sunshine  of  the  breast : 
Theirs  buxom  health,  of  rosy  hue ; 
Wild  wit,  invention  ever  new, 

And  lively  cheer,  of  vigour  born  ; 
The  thoughtless  day,  the  easy  night, 
The  spirits  pure,  the  slumbers  light, 

That  fly  the  approach  of  morn.*' 

How  poor,  compared  with  this,  the  overclouded  sky, 
of,  what  the  world  calls,  life.  Its  anxious  days,  and 
sleepless  nights.  Its  struggle  for  a  place,  and  then,  its 
carefulness  to  keep  it.  The  distant,  dim  with  doubts  ; 
the    present,  with   dissatisfaction.      "  In   the    evening. 


THE    SPIRIT   OF   LITTLE    CHILDRElSr.  101 

would  God  it  were  morning !     And,  in  the  morning, 
would  God  it  were  evening ! " 

V.  The  spirit  of  little  children  is  a  spirit  of  tliankf  ill- 
ness. How  easy  a  tiling  it  is  to  please  a  little  child  ! 
How  prompt,  in  tlie  expression  of  its  pleasures !  How 
beautiful,  in  the  utterance  of  its  thanks  !  How  unlike 
men,  in  theu'  indifference,  ingratitude,  and  disregard  of 
God  !  And,  what  a  loss,  in  this  unlikeness,  of  what 
gives  the  highest  zest  to  our  enjoyment ! 

"  Ten.  thousand,  thousand  precious  gifts 
My  daily  thanks  employ  ; 
Nor  is  the  least  a  cheerful  heart, 
That  tastes  those  gifts  with  joy." 

vi.  The  spirit  of  little  children  is  a  loving  spirit. 
Observe  their  little  ways.  Take  notice  of  their  natural 
caresses.  Mark  the  abandon  of  their  loving  natures. 
Love  seems  their  very  life.  They  wake  to  greet  it,  and 
they  fall  asleep  upon  its  memory.  And  their  love  is 
"  without  dissimulation ; "  the  most  like  Eden's,  ere  it 
yet  had  felt  the  Fall. 

vii.  The  spirit  of  little  children  is  an  obedient  spirit. 
Implicit  confidence  brings  this  about.  They  think  not 
for  themselves.  They  do  as  they  are  bid.  They  are 
content  to  do  it.  And,  how  much  the  happiest  so ! 
Soon  will  you  find  it,  my  dear  daughters.  Soon  will 
you  regret  that  the  responsibilities  of  life  are  laid  upon 
your  hearts.  Lighten  them,  as  you  best  may.  Be  as 
dear  children  before  God.  Be  as  dear  children  of  the 
Church.  Say,  with  the  infant  Samuel,  "  Speak,  Lord, 
for  Thy  servant  heareth."     "  My  good  child,  know  this, 


102  THE   SPIRIT    OF   LITTLE   CHILDEEN. 

that  thou  art  not  able  to  do  these  things  of  thyself,  nor 
to  walk  in  the  commandments  of  God,  and  to  serve  Him, 
without  His  special  grace ;  which  thou  must  learn 
at  all  times  to  call  for  by  diligent  prayer." 

viii.  The  spirit  of  little  children  is  a  devout  spirit. 
They  look  up,  through  their  mother,  to  their  God.  Their 
primal  altar  is  her  knees.  What  an  instinctive  attitude 
of  supplication !  How  artless  in  its  ways  !  How  perfect 
and  undoubting  its  repose  !  A  lovelier,  more  affecting, 
sight  is  never  seen,  than  a  young  child  at  prayer.  Who 
does  not  long  to  pray,  as  he  prayed  then  ? 

My  daughters,  may  you  be,  thi'ough  life,  as  little 
children ;  as  dependent,  as  conjSding,  as  humble,  as 
hopeful,  as  thankful,  as  loving,  as  obedient,  as  devout. 
So  shall  those  blessed  words  of  Jesus  Christ  be  yours, 
in  time,  and  through  eternity :  "  Suffer  the  little  children 
to  come  unto  Me,  and  forbid  them  not ;  for  of  such  is 


IV. 

THE  FOURTH  ADDRESS 

*T0  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


NOTHING     LOST. 


Beloved  cliildren,  tlie  painful  parting  moment  comes, 
at  last !  The  daily  task,  the  daily  pleasure,  and  the 
daily  prayer,  are  done  and  gone  !  No  more,  the  thronged 
and  busy  school-room,  with  its  beaming  galaxy  of  cheer- 
ful faces,  and  bright  eyes.  No  more,  the  long-drawn 
corridors,  through  which  the  ready  feet  hastened;,  at 
every  summons  of  the  faithful  bell.  No  more,  the  pa- 
tient and  devoted  teacher,  waiting  your  approach ;  the 
quiet  lecture-room ;  the  books,  the  maps,  the  apparatus, 
the  black-board,  and  the  slate.  No  more,  the  evening 
stroll,  with  loving  arms  clasped  close  to  loving  hearts, 
along  the  sweet,  sky-tinctured  Delaware,  upon  the  ver- 
dant carpet  of  its  loveliest  bank.  No  more,  the  morn- 
ing bell,  the  still,  sequestered,  sacred,  ''  noons,"  the  even- 
ing prayer,  and  hymn ;  with  the  fond  paii;ing,  where  heart 
went  with   hand.     No   more,  the   peaceful   dormitory, 

»  March,  A.  D.  1849. 


104  NOTHING   LOST. 

with  its  space  for  silent  prayer,  and  then  its  welcome 
couch  ;  and  then  the  sleep,  as  sweet  as  when  the  moon- 
light slept  on  that  Venetian  bank,*  in  Shakspeare's 
pictured  page.  No  more,  the  festal  day,  with  that  do- 
mestic Sacrament,  in  which  a  father,  with  his  children, 
of  one  family,  fed,  with  still  hearts,  in  penitential  love, 
upon  that  blessed  banquet,  which  the  Saviour  spread, 
and  gave  Himself,  to  be  its  heavenly  food.  No  more  ! 
No  more ! 

But,  no !  It  is  not  so.  These  are  not  gone.  The  mind, 
the  soul,  die  not.  They  are  immortal ;  and  they  lend 
their  immortality  to  all  their  issues,  interests,  and  inci- 
dents. No  hour  of  faithful  study,  in  your  whole  school 
course,  dear  children,  has  been  lost.  It  told,  in  treas- 
ure, such  as  California  could  not  compass,  in  that  most 
thorough,  searching,  all-embracing,  trial  of  your  strength, 
and  wealth,  of  mind,  which  made  your  closing  examina- 
tion the  most  satisfactory  to  me,  and  the  most  honour- 
able to  your  teachers  and  yourselves,  that  I  have  ever 
witnessed.  Your  early  hours,  your  systematic  occupa- 
tion, your  simple  fare,  your  joyous  sports,  your  constant 
intercourse  of  mutual  love :  these  are  not  lost.  They 
live,  in  the  serene  repose  of  your  well-balanced  feelings ; 
in  the  sweet  contentment  of  your  daily  life  ;  in  the  sub- 
dued, yet  buoyant,  cheerfulness  of  your  young  hearts. 
And,  in  the  sacred  haunts  of  home,  and  in  the  converse 
of  the  dear  ones  that  surround  its  hearth,  and  in  the 
social  intercourse  of  life,  they  will  attest  the  wholesome 

*  In  point  of  fact,  the  scene  in  "the  Merchant  of  Venice,"  which  suppHes  this 
allusion,  is  laid  at  Belmont,  the  seat  of  Portia,  on  the  Continent. 


NOTHING    LOST.  105 

wisdom,  and  the  faithful  tenderness,  whicli  have  con- 
trolled your  training  here ;  while  they  give  pledge, 
with  God  to  bless  you,  of  health,  and  usefulness,  and 
influence,  and  that  true  cheerfulness,  which  flows  from 
a  well-ordered  mind,  in  all  your  after  life.  And  this  is 
not  the  best.  The  faithful  counsels  and  instructions  of 
this  sacred  place ;  its  vocal  chaunts ;  its  tender  and 
subduing  hymns ;  its  solemn  prayers ;  your  penitent 
confessions,  the  fervent  protestations  of  your  faith,  your 
glad  thanksgivings,  your  beseeching  intercessions,  your 
devotions  of  the  heart,  your  patient  catechizing,  your 
child-like  listening  to  the  sure  word  of  God,  your  eager 
study  of  its  blessed  page  :  these  are  not  lost.  They  are 
engrafted  in  your  heaii; ;  and,  in  the  dew,  that  is  won 
down  from  heaven,  on  tender,  faithful,  loving  souls,  are 
bringing  forth  the  fi'uits  of  righteousness  and  peace. 
They  have  led  you,  by  the  Spirit's  mild  constraint,  to 
the  baptismal  water,  to  the  sacred  rail,  to  the  most  holy 
Eucharist :  and,  if  you  continue  faithful  in  the  use  of 
these  divine  provisions,  for  the  renewal  of  your  nature, 
and  salvation  of  your  souls,  through  the  most  blessed 
Cross  of  Jesus  Christ,  they  will  conduct  you,  all  your 
days,  in  holiness  and  righteousness  of  life ;  console  and 
smoothe  the  hour  and  pillow  of  your  death  ;  and  open 
for  you,  in  the  pathway  which  the  blessed  Saviour  trod, 
and  stained  with  tears  and  blood,  the  Paradise  of  God. 
Oh,  my  beloved,  what  a  blessedness  and  beauty  in 
such  thoughts  and  Jbopes  as  these,  made  true  and  real — 
and,  if  we  but  will,  made  certain,  and  made  ours — ^by 
the  most  holy  word  of  God ;  as  they  were  purchased  for 


106  .  NOTHING   LOST. 

US  by  the  blood  of  His  dear,  only  Son  !  Take  tliem  out 
with  you,  into  the  world,  to  be  a  light  to  guide  your 
feet,  a  panoply  to  guard  your  heads.  Take  them  home 
with  you,  to  be  the  comfort  of  dear  parents,  the  encour- 
agement and  strength  of  brothers  and  of  sisters,  the  joy 
of  all  who  know  and  love  you,  and  are  happy  in  your 
happiness.  Nor  leave  us  out  of  their  benign  and  blessed 
comprehension.  Bear  us  with  you,  in  your  thoughts. 
Let  us  dwell  kindly  in  your  hearts.  Let  us  never  be 
forgotten  in  your  prayers.  Come  to  us,  when  you  can, 
with  loving  confidence,  as  children,  to  a  father's  home ; 
and  be  assui'ed  of  a  true  welcome,  fi^om  a  father's  loving 
heart.  And,  oh,  beloved,  as  my  last  word  to  you  as 
pupils  of  St.  Mary's  Hall — and,  it  may  be,  my  last  word 
to  you  on  earth — so  keep  the  faith,  you  have  acknowl- 
edged here,  and  live  so  in  its  holy  precepts,  and  its 
pious  prayers,  that,  when  the  voice  of  the  Archangel 
shall  awake  the  dead,  and  call  the  living  to  be  judged, 
your  names  may  be  found  written  in  the  book  of  life, 
before  the  Lamb  ;  and  you  be  with  Him,  where  He  is, 
in  perfectness  of  bliss,  forever  and  forever. 


V. 
THE  FIFTH  ADDRESS 

*  TO  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL 


FAREWELL. 


Oh,  what  a  world  is  that,  where  no  farewells  are  spoken  ; 
Where  hearts,  that  truly  love,  love  on,  and  are  not  broken ! 

These  semi-annual  gatherings,  my  beloved,  are  sad 
reminders  to  us,  that,  tliat  happy  world  is  not  yet  ours. 
That  the  way  to  it,  lies  dark  and  rough,  before  us. 
That  we  have  our  own  salvation  to  work  out,  with  fear 
and  trembling ;  and  to  make  the  calling  and  election  of 
our  baptism  sure,  through  faith  which  is  in  Christ. 

The  little  word.  Farewell,  so  sorrowful,  so  solemn, 
tells  us  all  this.  In  its  old  Anglo-Saxon  force,  it  means. 
Go  well !  Go  in  the  good  path.  Go  in  it  faithfully. 
Go  in  it  with  God's  favoui'  and  acceptance.  It  is  an 
exhortation  and  a  prayer.  Go  well !  May  you  go 
well! 

I.  Farewell.  Go  in  the  good  path.  To-day,  dear 
children,  you  begin  a  new,  eventful  stage  of  being.     It 

*  September,  A.  D.  1849. 


108  FAKEWELL. 

is  a  turning  point  in  life.  You  are  to  Lave  henceforth, 
as  you  have  never  had,  the  perilous  privilege  of  choice. 
Use  it  wisely  and  well.  With  Mary,  choose  the  better 
part.  Go  in  the  good  path  !  It  is  the  path  of  duty. 
Say,  what  any  may ;  suggest,  what  your  own  heart  may, 
the  good  path,  the  only  good  path,  is  the  path  of  duty. 
How  can  it  not  be  so,  when  duty  means  but  due-ness ; 
and  its  sense,  that  which  is  due  ?  That  which  is  due  to 
God,  Who  made  you  to  fulfil  His  gracious  ends.  That 
which  is  due  to  others  ;  to  aid  them  in  their  fulfilment. 
That  which  is  due  to  your  own  self;  that  it  be  not, 
through  its  whole  eternity,  that  which  you  bewail  and 
blame.  Duty  is  moral  beauty.  Duty  is  akin  with 
Deity.  Duty  is  heaven  begun ;  and  heaven's  whole 
happiness  is  duty.  "  Bless  the  Lord,  ye  His  angels, 
that  excel  in  strength,  that  do  His  commandments; 
hearkening  unto  the  voice  of  His  word." 

II.  Farewell.  Go  in  the  good  path  faithfully.  Duty 
is  unity.  It  seeks  one  end.  It  seeks  it  in  one  way.  The 
end,  the  way,  God's  will.  As  one,  as  He  is.  Hence 
the  necessity  of  firmness,  in  adhering  to  the  good  choice ; 
made,  at  first.  And,  in  this,  dear  children,  lies  your 
greatest  difficulty.  It  has  been  your  happiness,  that  you 
were  helped  in  the  good  choice.  You  were  born  of 
Christian  parents.  In  holy  baptism,  they  early  made 
you  Christians.  They  took  you  to  the  Church  of  Christ, 
while  your  feet  tottered,  yet,  and  your  tongues  lisped. 
They  had  you  taught  your  duty,  in  the  blessed  Cate- 
chism.     They  kept  you  at  the  feet  of  Christian  Pas- 


FAEEWELL.  109 

tors,  as  the  lambs  of  Christ.  Tliey  brought  you  to  this 
Chiistian  fold.  For  months  and  years,  they  kept  you,  in 
its  gracious  shelter,  and  beneath  its  sacred  shadow.  If 
your  hearts  have  not  resisted  heavenly  grace,  and  re- 
jected holy  opportunities,  and  hardened  themselves 
against  divine  influences,  you  are  in  the  good  path. 
Your  eyes  have  learned  to  know  it.  Your  feet  have 
learned  to  walk  in  it.  Your  hearts  have  learned  to  love 
it.  Is  it  so  ?  Dear  children  of  my  love,  lambs  of  my 
Saviour's  flock,  baptized  and  bathed  in  His  most  pre- 
cious blood,  is  it,  is  it  so  ?  The  trial,  if  it  is,  is  to 
begin,  to-day.  From  this  day,  new  temptations  will 
beset  you.  From  this  day,  new  hindrances  will  befal 
you.  From  this  day,  new  dangers  will  surround  you. 
Can  you  hold  fast  "  the  beginning  of  your  confidence  ? " 
Can  you  say  to  Satan,  "  Get  behind  me  ?  "  Can  you  say 
to  the  world,  I  am  crucified  to  you,  with  Christ  ?  Can 
you  say,  to  the  flesh,  Be  subdued  and  subjected  to 
the  Spirit  ?  "  To  be  carnally  minded,  is  death  ;  but, 
to  be  spiiitually  minded,  is  life  and  peace."  To  go  in 
the  good  path ;  to  go  on  in  it,  faithfully,  and  constantly, 
unto  the  end ;  this,  my  beloved  children,  is  your  duty, 
and  your  difiiculty  ;  and  this  is  what  I  mean,  when  I  say 
to  you.  Farewell. 

III.  But  I  mean  more  than  this.  You  cannot  do  it 
of  yourselves.  You  cannot  go  on  in  the  good  path, 
and  go  on  in  it  faithfully,  unless  it  be  with  God's  favour 
and  acceptance.  Therefore,  is  Farewell  a  prayer  as  well 
as  an  exhortation.     And  therefore,  when  I  say  Farewell, 


110  FAEEWELL. 

I  commit  you,  and  commend  you  to  His  grace,  without 
wMcli  no  good  thing  is  done,  or  is.  Kem  ember  those 
sweet,  tender  words  of  your  true  Catechism  :  "  My  good 
child,  know  this,  that  thou  art  not  able  to  do  these 
things,  of  thyself,  nor  to  walk  in  the  commandments  of 
God,  and  serve  Him,  mthout  His  special  grace ;  which 
thou  must  learn  at  all  times,  to  call  for,  by  diligent 
prayer.  Let  me  hear  therefore,  if  thou  canst  say  the 
Lord's  Prayer."  Be  diligent  in  prayer.  Let  the  Lord's 
prayer,  be  ever  with  your  daily  bread.  Live  in  it. 
Live  by  it.  Be  children  of  God ;  that  He  may  be  your 
Father,  in  Heaven.  He  will  keep  you.  He  will  guide 
you.  He  will  bless  you.  You  will  grow  nearer  to 
Him.  You  will  grow  more  like  Him.  You  will  have 
Him  with  you  here.  You  will  be  with  Him,  where  He 
is,  hereafter,  forever ; 

In  such  a  world  where  no  tarewells  are  spoken  ; 

Where  hearts  that  truly  love,  love  on,  and  are  not  broken  ! 


TL 

THE, SIXTH  ADDRESS 

*  TO   THE   GRADUATING   CLASS  AT   ST.  MARY'S   HALL. 


THE  CKOSS,  THE  ONLY  HOPE. 

Beloved  Childeen  : — ^Your  feet  have  reached  the 
line,  to  which  your  eyes  have  looked  so  long.  A  moment, 
more ;  and  it  is  passed.  Another  step  ;  and  you  are  in 
the  world.  It  is  a  world  of  trial.  It  is  a  world  of 
trouble.  It  is  a  world  of  sin.  It  is  a  world  of  death. 
Have  you  laid  hold  of  that,  which  can  alone  support 
you  in  it  ?     Have  you  embraced  the  Cross  ? 

I.  It  is  a  world  of  trial.  Oh,  how  soon,  you  are  to  find 
it  so  !  It  will  try  your  feelings.  You  have  been  shel- 
tered here.  It  is  a  little,  peaceful  haven,  where  the 
winds  of  life  are  scarcely  felt.  Once,  out  at  sea,  and 
they  will  beat  upon  you,  with  relentless  fury.  Winds 
of  unkindness.  Winds  of  disappointment.  Winds  of 
adversity.  Winds  o'^  destruction.  Shoals.  Sunken 
rocks.     Breakers.     A  lee  shore.     No  canvass,  but  will 

*  March,  A.  D.  1850. 


112  THE  SEOSS,  THE  ONLY  HOPE. 

split.  No  plank,  tliat  will  not  yawn.  ISTo  anchor  that 
will  hold.  Or,  only  one,  that  blessed,  bleeding  Cross. 
It  will  try  your  tempers.  Here,  few  conflicting  interests. 
Here,  few  disturbing  forces.  Here,  scarce  the  thought 
of  rivalry.  There,  fiercest  competition.  There,  unrelent- 
ing opposition.  There,  "  war  unto  the  knife."  To  enter 
that  arena,  with  natures,  wild,  ungoverned,  and  unsancti- 
fied,  is  to  go,  a  wild  beast,  among  wild  beasts ;  to  strife, 
to  struggle,  and  to  death.  Only  the  lamb-like  can  have 
peace.  Only  the  Cross  can  yield  the  lamb.  It  id  ill 
try  your  'principles.  Here,  you  have  lived  by  rule. 
Here,  you  have  stood,  with  helj).  Here,  you  have 
walked  with  guides.  There,  you  must  be  a  rule  unto 
yourselves.  You  must  stand,  in  your  own  strength. 
You  must  walk,  in  your  own  light.  What,  but  the 
Cross,  can  guide,  support,  direct  ?  Have  you  embraced 
the  Cross  ? 

II.  It  is  a  world  of  trouble.  It  has  found  you,  even 
here.  For  we  are  born,  to  trouble,  "  as  the  sparks  fly 
upward."  We  breathe  it,  as  we  breathe  the  air.  But, 
in  the  world,  and  as  the  way  of  life  grows  longer, 
troubles  will  multij^ly  and  thicken  ;  as,  in  the  summer 
noon,  the  clouds  are  blackest  and  most  frequent,  and 
the  bolts  most  fierce  and  fatal.  In  what  shape,  they 
may  come,  God  knows.  Sickness,  poverty,  persecution. 
The  eye  of  envy,  the  tongue  of  slander,  the  hand  of  vio- 
lence. Loneliness,  dependence,  destitution.  Hopes 
deferred.  Peace  invaded.  Love  betrayed.  The  failure 
of  plans,  the  disappointment  of  purposes,  the  death  of 


THE  CROSS,  THE  ONLY  HOPE.  113 

friends.      Have   you   secured  a  shelter,  my  beloved  ? 
Have  you  embraced  tlie  Cross  ? 

IH.  It  is  a  world  of  sin.  We  have,  always,  sinful 
hearts ;  and,  everywhere.  And,  even  here,  the  strug- 
gle, for  the  mastery,  is  sharp  and  fierce.  But,  in  the 
world,  temj)tations  multiply.  In  the  world,  evil  ex- 
amples throng.  In  the  world,  the  opportunities  of 
prayers,  the  means  of  grace,  the  helps  of  holiness,  are 
few  and  far  between.  It  is  a  downward,  slippeiy,  path. 
You  walk  alone  in  it.  Or,  you  are  urged  forward,  by 
the  impulse  of  the  crowd.  Or,  you  are  jostled,  by  the 
struggling.  Or,  you  are  overthrown  by  the  falling,  or 
the  fallen.  The  eye  has  come  to  look  on  sinful  practices, 
till  they  lose  half  their  ugliness.  The  heart  has  been 
in  contact  mth  evil  influences,  till  it  has  ceased  to 
shudder.  Familiarity  takes  the  grossness  from  impurity. 
Company  lends  confidence  to  impiety.  The  attraction 
of  the  earthly  increases.  The  charm  of  the  heavenly  is 
lost.  The  whispers  of  conscience  grow  faint.  The 
memories  of  childhood  are  faded.  The  Heavenly  Dove 
has  been  resisted ;  till  It  wings  Itself,  for  flight.  God 
has  been  disregarded,  till  His  mercy  is  kindling  into 
wrath.  There  is  but  a  single  refuge.  In  a  moment 
more,  the  hope  of  rescue  may  be  lost.  Have  you  an  ad- 
vocate, mth  the  Father  ?  Have  you  laid  hold  of  the 
sole  hope  for  sinners  ?     Have  you  embraced  the  Cross  ? 

IV.  It  is  a  world  of  death.  Not  an  instant,  that  some 
do  not  fall.  The  knell  is  never  silent.  The  funeral 
train  is  never  out  of  sight.     The  ground  is  full  of  graves. 

VOL.  IV. 8 


114  THE  CROSS,  THE  ONLY  HOPE. 

The  jjlace,  for  yours,  is  marked.  Already,  the  green 
sod  is  broken.  The  third  day's  sun  may  shine  upon 
your  tomb.  Can  you  see,  through  it,  to  the  Saviour  ? 
WiU  you  lie  down,  in  it,  with  Him  ?  Is  His  blood  upon 
you,  as  the  sign  of  youi'  salvation  ?  Have  you  embraced 
His  Cross  ? 

Beloved  children,  let  these  questions  sink  into  youi* 
heart.  Give  yourselves  no  rest,  till  you  can  answer 
them,  as,  at  the  day  of  judgment,  you  will  be  glad  you 
did.  Do  not  rise  from  off  your  knees,  now,  for  the  last 
time,  in  this  sacred  place,  without  the  fervent  prayer, 
that  God  will  make  you  His,  by  a  true,  living,  peniten- 
tial faith,  in  Jesus  Christ,  His  Son.  Believe  me,  if  the 
seeds,  sown  here,  have  made  no  root,  there  must  be  fear- 
ful hardness  in  youi*  hearts.  Believe  me,  if  the  dews, 
shed  here,  have  had  no  power  to  soften  it,  it  must  be 
rent  with  fire.  Believe  me,  in  the  houi*  of  trial,  in  the 
hour  of  trouble,  in  the  houi'  of  sin,  in  the  hour  of  death, 
the  memories,  which  shall  cling  most  closely  to  your 
nature,  with  the  keenest  pang  of  sorrow,  or  the  most 
exulting  thrill  of  joy,  will  be  the  memories  of  these 
scenes  of  your  childhood ;  will  be  the  memory  of  this 
peaceful  parting  hour ;  will  be  the  memory  of  that  pale 
and  pleading  Cross. 

As  I  gaze,  to-day,  with  touched  and  trembling 
heart,  upon  your  fond,  familiar  forms,  endeared  to  me, 
by  years  of  watchfulness  and  prayer,  there  stand, 
with  you,  the  shrouded  and  sepulchral  shapes  of  daugh- 
ters, dear  to  me,  in  other  years,  as  you  are,  now,  whom 
death  has  garnered  in  the  grave.     Hear,  what  a  poor, 


TIIE    CEOSS,  THE    ONLY    HOPE.  115 

heart-broken  father  wi'ites  to  me,  of  one  of  them ;  and 
pray,  that,  whether  you  go,  young,  to  join  her ;  or  wait 
longer,  on  God's  will,  her  last  end  may  be  yours.  "  You 
will  doubtless  remember,  that  my  beloved  and  dear 
daughter,*  was,  for  some  years,  a  pupil  of  yours,  at  St. 
Mary's  Hall.  I  presume,  ere  this,  you  have  learned, 
that  she  is  no  more.  She  departed  from  this  world,  on 
the  9th  of  December  last ;  in  the  calm  hope  of  a  better 
life,  and  in  sweet  reliance  on  our  risen  Redeemer.  I  am 
sure,  you  have  already  dropped  tears,  to  her  memory ; 
and  sympathized  with  me,  in  my  irreparable  bereave- 
ment. You  know  much  of  her  history.  How  dear  to 
me.  How  lovely  at  school.  How  caressed  at  home. 
The  Diploma,  which  she  received,  at  your  hands,  hung 
always  in  her  bedroom ;  and  was  among  the  last  objects 
which  she  saw,  before  her  eyes  closed  forever.  She  al- 
ways spoke  of  your  excellent  Institution,  as  a  happy 
home  to  her ;  and  her  prayers  wxre  fervent,  for  the  pros- 
perity of  St.  Mary's  Hall."  "  I  can  say,  most  truly, 
though  I  do  it  most  reverently,  that  my  heart  is  broken. 
I  cannot  stop  my  tears."  "  And  I  write  this  chiefly  to 
say,  that  I  t"hink  she  was  mainly  indebted  to  your  In- 
stitution, for  those  Heavenward  influences,  in  which  she 
participated,  to  the  last  moment  of  her  life." 

Beloved  children,  shall  it  not  be  so  with  you  ?  She 
had  embraced  the  Cross.  Have  you  ?  Or,  will  you 
not  ?  Will  you  not  embrace  His  Cross,  who  tore  His 
loving  heart,  wide  open,  that  it  might  take  you  in  ? 

*  Mrs.  Agnes  Matilda  Reed,  wife  of  William  C.  Reed,  Esq.,  and  daughter  of 
the  Hon.  Aaron  Clark,  late  Mayor  of  New  York.  She  graduated  at  St.  Mary's 
Hall,  in  September,  1845. 


YII. 
THE  SEVENTH  ADDRESS 

TO   THE   GRADUATING  CLASS  AT   ST.  MARY'S   HALL. 


GOD    SPEED. 


Beloved  Children  : — The  time  has  come,  when  we 
must  part.  I  cannot  say,  that  "  parting  is  "  "  sweet 
sorrow."  I  do  not  feel  it  so.  My  heart  has  groAvn  to 
you,  till  you  became  a  part  of  it.  You  have  been 
WTOught  in,  into  the  habit  of  my  happiness.  I  shall 
miss  your  dear  familiar  faces.  I  shall  miss  the  cheerful 
daily  greeting.  I  shall  miss  the  earnest  intei'change  of 
thought,  and  heart,  in  lesson  and  in  lecture.  I  shall 
miss  you,  from  among  the  youthfid  band,  that  kneel  to- 
gether, here,  at  matins,  noons,  and  evensong.  I  shall 
miss  you  from  my  daily,  secret,  solitaiy,  prayers.  I  shall 
miss  you,  everywhere  ;  but  from  my  heart.  There,  you 
will  dwell,  forever.  And,  when  we  wake,  together,  at  the 
resurrection-morning,  may  you  be  with  me,  when  I  say, 
"  Behold,  I,  and  the  children  which  God  hath  given  me !  " 

Seven  and  twenty  times,  have  I  stood  here,  with 

*  September,  A.  D.  1850. 


GOD   SPEED.  117 

words  of  parting,  on  my  lips.  For  more  than  thirteen 
years,  this  ebb  and  flow  of  human  life,  has  dashed 
against  my  feet.  I  have  grown  gray,  among  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  land.  But  there  is  no  grayness,  in  my 
heart.  It  beats  as  high,  and  clear,  and  strong,  thank 
God ;  as  full  of  hope,  and  tenderness,  and  love,  as,  when, 
on  the  May-day  of  eighteen  hundred  and  thirty-seven, 
these  doors  were  opened,  first ;  and  a  little,  timid,  troop 
of  trembling  girls,  now,  many  of  them,  wives,  and 
mothers,  enrolled  themselves,  as  daughters  of  St.  Mary's 
Hall.  Since  then,  well  nigh  a  thousand  childi^en,  fi^om 
every  quarter  of  the  land,  have  sought  admission,  here. 
So,  truly,  has  "  the  little  one  become  a  thousand." 
And,  loving  hearts,  among  the  granite  mountains  of 
New  England,  in  the  great  cities  of  the  Middle  States, 
on  the  broad  lakes  and  rivers  of  the  West,  and  by  the 
sweet  savannas  of  the  South,  are  mth  us,  here,  in  spiint ; 
and,  from  the  happy  homes,  which  they  adorn  and  bless, 
send  up  the  fervent  prayer  to  God  for  blessings  on  the 
day.  And,  garnered,  as  I  know  I  am,  in  the  deep  places 
of  their  warm  and  beating  breasts,  with  tenderest 
thoughts,  of  gratitude  and  love,  I  count  not  laj)se  of 
years,  I  weigh  not  loads  of  care,  I  take  no  thought  of 
evil  tongues,  and  evil  times,  on  which  my  lot  has  fallen  : 
but,  cheerfully  thank  God,  that  He  has  let  me  toil,  and 
suffer,  in  a  cause  so  sacred ;  and  feel  all  present  evils 
overpaid  by  such  affection,  from  such  hearts :  while  I 
look  forward,  with  exulting  expectation,  to  the  day,  when 
they  shall  stud,  as  choicest  jewels,  the  crown,  which 
my  Redeemer  has  won  for  me,  with  His  blood. 


118  GOD   SPEED. 

You  go,  to-day,  beloved  cMldren,  to  join  this  gra- 
cious company.  And,  though  the  living,  loving,  ten- 
drils, which  have  bound  you  to  me,  here,  cannot  be  sev- 
ered, and  my  heart  not  bleed ;  I  staunch  the  starting 
stream,  and  still  the  throbbing  pulse,  by  the  reflection, 
that  you  go  to  be,  like  them,  the  light  and  joy  of  the 
dear  homes,  in  which  your  infancy  was  cradled.  You 
were  but  left  with  me,  a  while,  to  cherish,  and  to  train. 
I  know,  at  what  a  cost  of  fond,  parental  love.  I  know, 
at  what  a  cost  of  social  sympathy,  and  happiness.  I 
know,  at  what  a  cost  of  lonely  halls,  and  saddened 
boards,  and  darkened  hearths.  I  know  at  what  a  cost  of 
tears  that  scald  the  heart ;  and  I  should  be  traitor  to  the 
holiest  trust  that  man  has  ever  held,  had  I  spared  labour, 
watching,  prayers,  for  your  advancement,  and  improve- 
ment, in  all  sound,  and  useful,  learning,  that  becomes 
your  age  and  sex,  in  all  the  charities,  and  courtesies  of 
womanhood,  in  all  the  virtues  of  the  Cross,  and  graces  of 
the  Gospel,  while  you  sojourned  here ;  or,  did  I  grudge  you, 
now,  when  you  have  iTin,  with  honour,  your  apj)ointed 
course,  and  bear  the  pahn,  which  you  have  justly  won,  to 
the  dear  homes,  which  have  been  darkened  by  your  ab- 
sence, and  the  true  hearts,  which  throb  for  your  return. 

Go,  my  beloved  children,  to  the  parents,  to  whom 
God  has  given  you,  and  who  hold  you  dearer,  far,  than 
their  own  life.  Go,  to  fulfil  to  them,  in  letter,  and  in 
spirit,  that  first  commandment,  with  the  promise,  which 
you  have  heard  so  often,  here.  Go,  to  be  the  sharers  of 
their  joy,  and  the  consolers  of  their  sorrow.  Go,  to 
assist  them  in  their  duties ;  to  relieve  them  in  their 


GOD    SPEED.  119 

cares ;  to  mitigate,  for  them,  the  pangs  of  sickness  ;  to 
lighten,  for  them,  the  darkness  of  okl  age ;  to  smooth, 
for  them,  and  cheer,  the  bed  of  death.  Go,  to  the 
brothers,  and  the  sisters,  who  share  with  you  the  dear 
parental  board,  and  blend  their  feet  with  yours,  beside 
the  dear  parental  hearth.  Go,  to  be  patterns  to  them, 
in  truth,  in  tenderness,  in  patience,  in  humility,  in 
self  denial,  in  self  sacrifice,  in  heavenly-mindedness.  Go, 
to  be  soothers  of  their  troubles,  and  inspirers  of  their 
mii'th.  Go,  to  be  nurses,  teachers,  charmers,  ministering 
spiiits,  guardian-angels ;  such,  as  only  sisters  can  be. 
Go,  to  the  Pastors  of  Christ's  flock,  by  whom  you  were 
incorporated  into  Him,  in  holy  baptism ;  and  trained, 
and  fed,  and  nurtured,  as  the  lambs  of  His  dear  love. 
Go,  to  return  to  them  their  care,  and  watching,  for 
your  souls,  by  exemplary  lives,  and  holy  conversation ; 
and  by  the  soothing  voice,  the  cheering  eye,  the  helping 
hand,  to  aid,  and  animate  them,  in  their  arduous  care  of 
souls.  Go,  to  the  neighbourhoods,  in  which  your  lot  of 
life  is  cast,  to  be  the  almoners  of  Christ,  among  the 
poor ;  to  minister  to  sickness,  and  infirmity,  and  sorrow ; 
to  be  the  teachers  of  the  young ;  the  helpers  of  the  help- 
less ;  the  staff,  and  stay,  and  succour,  of  the  aged.  So,  shall 
you  justify  the  pains,  and  patience,  of  parental  love.  So, 
shall  you  overpay  our  utmost  care  and  effort,  for  your 
good.  So,  shall  you  fitly  bear  the  name  of  that  most 
blessed  of  the  Maries,  who  was  Mother  of  the  Son  of  God. 
So,  shall  the  legend  of  that  sacred  scroll,  on  which,  it 
may  be,  you  look  for  the  last  time,  be  justly  written 
of  you,  "  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord  !  " 


yiii. 

THE  EIGHTH  ADDRESS 

TO   THE   GRADUATING   CLASS  AT   ST.  MART'S  HALL. 


THE  HALCYON  MOMENTS  OF  THE  HEART. 

There  are  moments,  my  beloved,  when  the  heart 
lies  more  than  023en,  and  is  more  than  tender.  When  it 
is  quick,  to  take  impressions ;  and  tenacious,  to  retain 
them.  When,  like  the  glassy  surface  of  a  summer  lake,  the 
shadow  of  a  breath  will  write  itself,  in  wavelets,  on  its 
bosom ;  and  be  felt,  through  all  its  depths.  The 
thoughtful  ancients  noted,  what  they  called,  their  hal- 
cyon days  :  seven  days  before,  and  seven  days  after,  the 
winter  solstice ;  when  the  halcyons  made  their  nests. 
"  The  very  seas,  and  they  that  saile  upon  them,"  Pliny 
says,  "  know  well,  what  time  they  sit,  and  breed." 
"  And  the  time,  when  they  are  broodie,  is  called  the 
halcyon  dales ;  for,  during  that  season,  the  sea  is  calm." 
And  Michael  Drayton,  the  most  picturesque  of  poets, 
says,  of  them : 

"  There  came  the  halcyon  whom  the  sea  obeys  ; 
When  she,  her  nest,  upon  the  water,  lays." 

*  March,  A.  D.  1851 


THE   HALCYON   MOMENTS    OF   THE   HEAKT.  121 

The  moments,  that  I  S23eak  of,  may  be  called,  the 
Imlcyon  inomenU  of  the  heart.  When  it  lies  still,  and 
waits,  and  listens ;  as  the  holy  angels  hearken,  for  the 
will  of  God.  It  was  at  such  a  time,  that  the  spirit  of 
Plato,  the  divinest  of  the  souls,  that  knew  not  God,  caught, 
in  the  silence  of  the  midnight,  the  music  of  the  spheres. 
And,  at  an  hour,  like  this,  it  was,  that  the  old  Prophet, 
upon  Horeb,  when  the  great  strong  wind,  that  rent  the 
mountains,  and  the  earthquake,  and  the  fire,  passed  by 
him,  unregarded,  heard,  in  the  still,  small,  voice,  the 
whisper  of  the  Lord.  The  halcyon  moments  of  the 
heart  are  diverse,  in  their  times  of  coming ;  and  in  the 
occasions,  which  produce  them.  They  may  be  times  of 
sickness,  or  of  sorrow.  Times,  when  the  heart  is  more 
than  full,  in  its  embrace  of  hopes,  long  cherished  and 
pursued ;  and  found,  at  last.  Or,  times,  when  it  is  to 
leave  the  scenes,  which  have  been  long  familiar  to  it ; 
and  look,  for  the  last  time,  upon  its  parting  dear  ones. 

Dearly  beloved,  it  is  so,  with  you,  to-day.  You 
stand,  for  the  last  time,  before  me,  in  the  dear  relation 
which  has  knit  our  hearts,  so  long,  together.  You 
stand,  here,  for  the  last  time,  as  pupils,  among  pupils. 
When,  next  you  come,  into  these  old  familiar  places ; 
when  next  you  stand,  under  this  hallowed  roof;  when 
next  you  fix  your  eyes  and  hearts,  on  that  pale  Cross ; 
it  wiU  be  mth  memories  of  what  it  tvas^  to  your  young 
spirits,  a  holy,  happy,  home.  Shall  I  not  catch,  with 
love's  impassioned  eagernesss,  this  halcyon  moment  of 
your  hearts  ;  to  write  on  them  one  word,  that  shall  not 
die  ?     Can  you  take,  with  you,  from  this  sacred  place ; 


122  THE   HALCYON   MOMENTS    OF   THE   HEAET. 

can  you  take,  witli  yoii,  from  these  loving  lips  of  mine  ; 
can  you  take,  with  yon,  into  life,  and  keep  with  yon 
till  death ;  a  sentence,  more  befitting  to  yonr  age,  your 
sex,  your  present  duties,  or  your  prospective  responsi- 
bilities, '"'lan  that  sacred  legend,  so  familiar  to  your 
sight,  which  holds,  before  your  hearts,  the  touching- 
words  of  that  most  blessed  of  all  maidens,  the  meek 
and  matchless  Mary  :  "  Behold  the  HAin)MArD  of  the 
LoED  !  "  *  Will  you  not  adopt  it,  as  the  purpose  of 
your  youth  ?  Will  you  not  adhere  to  it,  for  the 
direction  of  your  life  ?  Will  you  not  look  forward  to 
it,  as  the  consolation  of  your  death  ? 

i.  "  Behold  the  hajstdmald  of  the  Loed  !  "  Adopt 
it,  as  the  purpose  of  your  youth .  You  are,  indeed,  the 
Lord's.  His,  as  He  made  you.  His,  as  He  redeemed 
you.  His,  as,  in  baptism.  He  adopted  you.  But,  to  be 
His  handmaids,  is  to  o^vn,  that  you  are  His ;  and,  con- 
senting, in  your  hearts,  to  His  most  righteous  claim,  to 
give  yourselves,  in  unreserved  devotion,  to  His  service. 
Whatever  has  been  done  by  you,  before,  when  you 
have  passed  the  threshold  of  this  peaceful  home,  and 
nursery  of  your  childhood  and  your  youth,  you  will  be 
forced  to  choose.  You  will  have  to  be  the  handmaids 
of  the  Lord ;  or  else,  bondwomen  of  the  world.  You 
cannot  blend  the  services.  The  world  will  take  no 
half  allegiance.  God  will  not.  You  have  but  one 
heart.     And  you  can  bestow  it,  on  but  one.     "  Choose 

*  In  the  main  compartment  of  the  Chancel  window  of  the  Chapel  of  the  Holy 
Innocents,  is  a  large  pale  Cross,  surrounded  with  clouds.  Under  it,  in  a  scroll, 
the  legend,  Behold  the  Handmaid  of  the  Lord. 


THE  HALCYON  MOMENTS  OF  THE  HEART.     123 

ye,  tliis  day,  whom  ye  "will  serve.  If  the  Lord  be  God, 
follow  Him :  but,  if  Baal,  then  follow  him."  Say,  with 
yom^  heart,  "  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord  !  "  Or 
be,  whatever  yon  may  say,  the  bondwoman  of  the 
world.  I  bless  my  God,  that  you  have  made  that 
choice.  I  bless  my  God,  that  I  have  not,  now,  to  win 
your  souls,  for  Christ.  I  bless  my  God,  that  you  are 
signed  and  sealed,  with  that  most  blessed  Cross.  What 
I  have,  now,  to  say,  is,  to  beseech  you,  to  hold  fast  to 
your  determination.  What  I  have,  now,  to  ask,  is,  that, 
when  you  leave  this  sacred  rail,  and  go  out,  into  life, 
you  will  bear,  ever,  in  your  heart,  and  on  your  brow — 
not  in  moroseness,  not  in  the  cant  of  mere  profession, 
not  in  the  Pharisaic  pride,  which  stands  by  itself,  as 
better  than  the  rest ;  but,  in  meekness,  gentleness,  char- 
ity, piety,  heavenly-mindedness,  the  control,  the  subju- 
gation, and  the  sacrifice  of  self,  the  service,  in  all  deeds 
of  love  and  offices  of  devotion,  of  the  God  Who  made 
you,  and  Who  bought  you,  with  His  blood — that 
sacred  legend,  "  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Loed," 
so  clear,  distinct,  and  radiant,  that,  whosoever  looks 
upon  your  modest,  gentle,  and  religious  youth,  shall 
see,  in  you,  the  Model,  you  have  chosen,  in  the  holy 
Mother  of  our  Lord ;  and  take  knowledge  of  you,  that 
you  have  been  with  Jesus. 

"  Lady,  that,  in  the  prime  of  earliest  youth, 

Wisely  hast  shunn'd  the  broad  way,  and  the  green ; 
And,  with  those  few,  art,  eminently  seen, 
That  labour  up  the  hill  of  heavenly  truth  ; 


124  THE   HALCYOIS'   MOMENTS    OF   THE   HEAET. 

The  better  part,  with  Mary,  and  with  Ruth, 

Chosen  thou  hast.         -^         *         *         * 

Thy  care  is  fix'd,  and  zealously  attends 
To  fill  thy  odorous  lamp,  with  deeds  of  light, 
And  hope,  that  reaps  not  shame.     Therefore,  be  sure. 

Thou,  when  the  Bridegroom,  with  His  faithful  friends, 
Passes,  to  bliss,  at  the  mid  hour  of  night. 
Hast  gain'd  thy  entrance.  Virgin  wise  and  pure  !  "  ^ 

ii.  "  Behold  the  haj^dmaid  of  the  Loed  !  "  Adhere 
to  it,  for  the  direction  of  your  life.  Life  is  a  day ;  and 
tliey  have  not  completed  it,  who  have  but  seen  its 
morning,  through.  Life  is  a  race ;  and  they  cannot  be 
crowned,  who  have  not  reached  the  goal.  Life  is  a 
voyage ;  and  the}^  alone  are  safe,  who  have  attained 
the  port.  The  might  of  a  religious  youth  is,  all  but, 
matchless.  But  its  purposes  must  be  made  actual,  in 
all  the  life.  Life  has  its  joys.  Life  has  its  sorrows. 
Life  has  its  trials.  Life  has  its  triumphs.  And,  in  a 
woman's  life,  oh,  my  beloved,  what  vicissitudes,  what 
exigencies,  what  emergencies !  What  trials  of  their 
faith !  What  trials  of  their  hope !  What  trials  of 
their  patience  !  What  trials  of  their  love  !  And,  if 
they  have  but  human  strength,  to  bear  them  up,  and 
human  pinidence  to  direct  them,  how  comfortless,  how 
hopeless,  is  their  lot.  The  blessed  God,  Who  saw, 
beforehand,  what  a  woman's  life  must  be,  has  made  her 
a  religious  heart.  And,  when  His  blessed  Son  became 
incarnate,  that  He  might  redeem  the  world,  a  woman's 
bosom  was  His  cradle ;  women  were  His  companions 

*  Milton's  Sonnet,  To  a  Virtuoits  Young  Lady. 


THE    IIALCYOJN^   MOMENTS    OF   THE   HEAET.  125 

and  His  comforters,  tlirougli  life ;  and  women  the  em- 
balmers  of  His  death : 

"  Last  at  His  Cross,  and  earliest  at  His  grave."  * 

Be,  my  beloved,  of  their  beautiful  and  blessed  com- 
pany. Be  of  the  Maries,  and  the  rest,  that  were  ever 
glad  to  be  with  Jesus,  where  He  was.  Keep  your- 
selves, at  His  feet.  Hold  to  His  garment's  hem.  Lay 
out  on  Him,  your  choicest,  and  most  costly,  and  most 
fragrant  ointments.  Listen,  in  faith,  to  all  His  words. 
And  gaze,  in  love,  on  the  divine  and  blessed  beauty  of 
His  face.  He  will  keep  you.  He  will  comfort  you. 
He  will  help  you.  He  will  bless  you.  While  you 
listen  to  Him,  you  shall  be  strengthened,  for  all  your 
trials.  When  you  but  touch  Him,  you  shall  be  healed 
of  all  your  plagues.  While  you  are  gazing  on  Him, 
you  shall  be  transformed,  into  His  serene,  celestial, 
beauty.  A  worldly  woman  is  a  mockery  of  her  sex. 
An  irreligious  woman  is  a  monster.  While,  in  the 
meek  and  quiet  spirit  of  the  holy  women  who  trust  in 
God — patient  in  suffering,  gentle  in  enjoyment,  thought- 
less of  self,  exhaustless  in  endurance,  faithful  through 
life,  faithful  in  death,  and  faithful  after  death^ — we  have 
all  we  know  of  angels,  and  come  nearest  heaven. 

iii.  "  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Loed  ! "  Zooh 
forward  to  it,  for  the  consolation  of  your  death. 
Beloved,  you  must  die  !  Though  you  are  young,  now, 
you  must  die.  Though  you  are  well,  now,  you  must 
die.     Though  you  are  happy,  now,  you  must  die.     Let 

*  Barrett's  Woman, 


126  THE    HALCYON    MOJIENTS    OF   THE    HEAET. 

me  not  he  misunderstood.  Would  you  be  happiest, 
would  you  have  perfect  health,  would  you  be  young 
forever,  you  must  die.  Death  is  the  gate  of  life.  Down- 
ward, to  those  that  know  not  God,  to  an  eternal  life  of 
anguish  and  unrest.  Upward,  to  those  who  know  and 
love  Him,  to  unmingled  and  immortal  joy.  When  the 
hour  shall  come,  that  lays  you  on  the  bed  of  suffering 
and  of  pain,  from  which  you  are  to  rise  no  more ;  may 
it  be  yours,  to  say,  "  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord ! " 
When  the  last  fluttering  flame  of  life  shall  flicker,  to  go 
out ;  may  it  be  yours,  to  say,  "  Behold  the  handmaid 
of  the  Lord  !  "  And,  when  the  resurrection  morning 
comes,  and  the  resurrection  trump  has  sounded,  and  the 
resurrection  glory  has  attained  its  full  and  perfect  con- 
summation, washed  in  the  blood,  and  radiant  in  the 
spiritual  and  heavenly  beauty,  of  Him,  Who  is  the 
Kesurrection  and  the  Life,  may  it  be  yours,  to  say,  "  Be- 
hold the  handmaid  of  the  Lord  !  " 


THE  NINTH  ADDRESS 

*T0  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


THE    THEESHOLD    OF    LIFE. 


Beloved  ones,  you  stand  upon  tlie  Threshold  of 
your  Life.  "Some  natural  tears."  One  long,  last, 
lingering,  look.  One  timid,  half-inquiring,  forward, 
glance.  And,  it  is  passed.  It  was  much  less,  to  pass 
the  Rubicon. 

Beloved  ones,  while  yet  we  stand  together,  on  the 
Threshold,  hand  clasped  in  hand,  heart  pressed  to  loving 
heart,  let  me,  for  the  last,  loving,  time,  address  you, 
as  my  children.  Never,  before,  was  it  so  truly  so. 
There  are  times — the  "  mollia  tempora  fandij''  as  a  poet 
hints,  at  them  ;  moments,  when  the  heart  softens,  to  the 
tongue — times  of  a  common  sorrow,  times  of  a  common 
danger,  times  of  a  common  suffering :  when  tenderest 
natures  grow  more  tender ;  and  hearts,  that  clung  the 
closest,  cling  more  closely.  You  have  been  mine,  at 
such  a  time ;  Ben-oni,  children  of  my  sorrow.     And,  in 

*  March,  A.  D.  1852. 


128  THE   THEESHOLD    OF   LIFE, 

the  liglit  of  your  dear  ^es,  and  in  the  music  of  your 
loving  lips,  and  in  the  swelling  of  your  fond  young 
hearts,  I  have  found  comfort,  such  as  daughters  only 
give.  The  tenderer,  the  truer,  the  more  touching, 
the  more  treasured,  in  my  heart  of  hearts,  for  all  the 
months,*  and  all  the  years,  that  we  have  lived,  and  loved, 
together ;  and,  that  some  of  you  were  laid,  as  tender 
lambs,  u23on  my  bosom,  by  the  dear  Shepherd  of  us  all, 
before  your  months  were  counted,  yet,  in  years. 

Beloved  ones,  you  are,  indeed,  an  old  man's  daugh- 
ters :  and,  for  the  comfort  of  your  love,  he  gives  you 
— it  is  all  he  has  to  give — his  love,  his  blessing,  and  his 
j^rayers. 

Beloved  ones,  I  never  looked  upon  you,  with  a  pang, 
before.  The  kindling  eye,  the  curling  lip,  the  gleaming 
smile,  the  murmured  welcome ;  these  met  me,  always, 
when  I  came  to  you ;  and  made  a  sunshine,  in  the 
shadiest  places  of  my  life.  How  sadly  different,  now ! 
As,  when  a  loving  mother  sends  her  eldest  daughter,  to 
her  newly  wedded  home.  And  tears  make  showers, 
in  sunshine,  with  the  smiles,  uj^on  her  face.  And  she 
looks,  everywhere,  for  what  she  has,  yet,  in  her  hand. 
And  goes,  a  dozen  times,  to  the  same  place,  for  what 
she  might  know  was  not  there.  And  presses  both 
hands  upon  her  bosom,  which  she  feels  is  bursting.  And 
looks,  anxiously,  again,  and,  still,  again,  for  the  invidious 
carriage,  which  is  to  bear  away  her  darling.  And  hears 
the  wheels,  before  they  fairly  turn.     And,  still,  repeats, 

*  Two  of  the  seventeen  were  dear  children  of  parishioners ;  who,  from  their 
earUest  infancy,  had  grown  up,  under  my  eye  and  hand. 


THE   THRESHOLD    OF   LIFE.  129 

and  re-repeats,  tlie  trite  and  needless  caution.  And 
feels,  tliat  slie  shall  certainly  forget  what  she  most  longs 
to  say.  And  cannot  say,  what  she  most  feels,  because 
she  feels  it  most.  Farewell ! 

Beloved  ones,  you  stand  upon  the  Threshold  of  your 
Life.  I  may  not  keep  you  back.  I  would  not,  if  I  might. 
You  came  here,  to  prepare  for  it,  God  calls  you,  now, 
to  enter  on  it.  I  must  speed  the  parting  guests ;  although 
they  take  my  heart-strings,  out,  with  them.  I  speed 
you,  my  beloved,  in  the  name  and  strength  of  God.  I 
speed  you,  in  the  might  and  merit  of  the  Cross.  I  speed 
you,  in  the  cleansing  comfort  of  the  Dove.  It  is  God's 
world.  You  are  His  children.  If  you  trust  Him,  He 
will  shelter  you.  If  you  submit  to  Him,  He  will  direct 
you.  If  you  love  Him,  He  will  save  you.  Take  with 
you,  my  beloved,  as  your  inseparable  companion,  His 
most  holy  w^ord.  Make  it  the  book,  of  your  hearts,  and 
of  your  lives.  Never  leave  your  chambers,  without  a  por- 
tion of  it,  in  your  minds ;  for  meditation,  through  the 
day.  Never  leave  your  chambers,  without  acknowledg- 
ing, upon  your  knees,  the  answer  to  the  prayer,  that 
blessed  you  for  your  pillow ;  and  invoking  the  divine 
protection,  to  restore  you  to  it,  again.  Seek,  with  a  fre- 
quent foot,  the  place,  where  prayer  is  made.  Make  it 
your  Beth-lehem  :  the  house  of  living  hread.  Nor  deem 
you  have  it,  for  the  nurture  of  your  souls,  for  heaven ; 
till,  with  true  ]3enitent  and  faithful  hearts,  you  feed  on 
that,  which  your  dear  Saviour  blessed ;  and  said,  "  This 
is  My  Body." 

Beloved  ones,  you  are  to  stand,  one  day,  upon  the 

VOL,  IV, 9 


130  THE   THEESHOLD    OF   LIFE. 

Threshold  of  another  life.  That,  which  you  enter,  now, 
is  but  the  longer,  or  the  shorter,  road,  to  lead  you  to  it. 
How  long,  how  short.  He  only  knows,  Who  is  Himself, 
The  Life.  How  long,  how  sliort,  it  matters  not,  if  it 
secure  you  to  His  love.  In  the  mercy  of  the  Father, 
Who  made  you ;  in  the  merit  of  the  Saviour,  Who 
redeemed  you ;  in  the  grace  of  the  Spirit,  Who  desires 
to  sanctify  you  ;  the  way  to  it,  however  long,  however 
short,  is  sure.  You  go  on  in  it,  henceforward,  my 
beloved,  with  my  blessing.  You  go  on  in  it,  vdth  the 
maternal  yearnings  of  this  true  nursery  of  your  youth. 
You  go  on  in  it,  with  the  j)rayers  of  the  Holy  Church ; 
commended  to  the  mercy-seat,  by  the  intercession  of 
your  suffering  Lord.  Hold  fast  to  your  allegiance,  as 
the  daughters  of  the  Church.  Hold  fast  to  your 
protection,  as  the  children  of  the  Cross.  So,  shall  the 
life  you  are  to  enter  now,  be  the  safe  passage  to  the 
Threshold  of  the  next.  So,  shall  "  the  grave  and  gate 
of  death,"  be  but  the  Threshold  of  Immortality. 


X. 

THE  TENTH  ADDRESS 

TO   THE   GRADUATING   CLASS   AT  ST.  MARY'S   HALL. 


THE    HOLY   WOMEN,    AT    THE    SEPULCHRE. 

Beloved  CniLDEEisr,  witli  wliat  strange  thouglits,  of 
trial  and  of  triumph,  our  hearts  have  been  engaged,  the 
last  ten  days !  We  have  wept,  with  Christendom, 
beneath  the  Cross.  We  have  sat  silently,  with  Chris- 
tendom, beside  the  grave.  We  have  rejoiced,  with 
Christendom,  at  the  deserted  Sepulchre.  "  He  is  not 
here :  He  is  risen ;  as  He  said."  And,  while  the  tokens 
of  that  trium2)h  are  yet  abroad,  and  the  echoes  of  the 
Easter  anthem  are  still  ringing,  through  the  world,  we 
are  gathered  here,  a  little  band,  to  weep,  and  pray,  and 
part.  To  you,  beloved  ones,  a  parting,  which  will  cost 
"  some  natural  tears ; "  but,  yet,  a  joyful  parting :  for  it 
bears  you  home ;  and  opens  to  your  feet  the  world, 
which,  to  your  inexperienced  eye,  bears  only  flowers. 
To  me,  the  moment  that  tears  off  from  my  heart  the 
tendrils,  which  so  long  have  twined,  in  love  and  loveli- 

*  March,  A.  D.  1853. 


132  THE   HOLY    WOMEN,  AT   THE   SEPULCHRE. 

ness,  about  it :  and  leaves  it  stripped,  and  sad,  and 
sore  ;  bleeding,  and  almost  broken.  But,  it  is  nature's 
way.  The  young  birds  are  impatient  of  the  nest. 
And,  when  the  w^arm  Sj^ring  winds  begin  to  blow,  and 
crocuses  and  pansies  paint  the  garden,  and  the  violet, 
with  maiden  lips,  kisses  the  air,  and  makes  it  fragrant, 
there  is  a  rustling,  and  a  chirping,  and  a  twittering,  in 
the  leafy  covert,  where  their  life  was  nurtured ;  and 
they  are  off  and  gone :  and  there  is  silence,  and  soli- 
tude, and  sorrow,  in  their  place.  Yes :  it  is  natui^e's 
way.  And,  were  there  only  nature,  it  were  sad,  indeed, 
and  hard  to  bear.  And  I  should  be  as  Rachel,  weep- 
ing for  her  children,  that  would  not  be  comforted, 
because  they  were  not.  But,  I  remember  Who  it  was, 
that  lent  you  to  me ;  for  how  long ;  and  for  what. 
And,  if,  through  grace,  I  have  been  faithful  to  my 
trust ;  and  you  have  grown  in  grace ;  and  I  can  com- 
fortably hope  that  you  will  still  em2:)loy  "  the  means 
of  grace,"  which  have  been  yours,  while  here ;  and 
struggle  forward,  through  their  help,  whatever  be  the 
several  pathways  of  your  life,  towards  the  hope  of 
glory :  I  shall  have  grace,  I  trust,  the  answer  to  your 
prayers,  to  mpe  my  tears,  with  yours ;  and  to  rejoice, 
while  you  rejoice ;  and  hope,  that,  if  we  meet  not,  here, 
on  earth,  again,  we  shall,  through  Christ,  in  Heaven. 

And,  now,  before  we  part,  my  daughters,  a  word  or 
two,  of  customary  counsel.  You  were  children,  when 
you  came  to  me.  You  go  from  me,  womeist.  And, 
w^hat  a  word  that  is  !  And  what  a  world  of  meaning  in 
it !     Gentleness,  tenderness,  thoughtfulness,  meekness, 


i 


THE   HOLY    WOMEN,  AT    THE    SEPULCHEE.  133 

patience,  kindness,  fortitude,  self-surrender,  self-control, 
self-sacrifice  :  for  all  a  woman  Las  to  Ije,  and  bear,  and 
do,  we  miglit  write  out  tlie  Apostle's  character  of  char- 
ity ;  and  say,  of  her,  as  he,  of  it,  she  "  beareth  all 
things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth 
all  thino;s." 

"  Though  fresh  within  your  breasts  th'  untroubled  springs 

Of  hope  make  melody,  where'er  ye  tread, 
And  o'er  your  sleep,  bright  shadows,  from  the  wings 

Of  spirits,  visiting  but  youth,  be  spread  ; 
Yet,  in  those  flute-like  voices,  mingling  low. 
Is  woman's  tenderness  ;  how  soon,  her  wo  ! 

"  Her  lot  is  on  you  :  silent  tears  to  weep, 

And  patient  smiles  to  wear,  through  suffering's  hour ; 
And  sumless  riches,  from  afl^ection's  deep, 

To  pour  on  broken  reeds,  a  wasted  shower ; 
And  to  make  idols,  and  to  find  them  clay, 
And  to  bewail  that  worship  :  therefore,  pray  !  ♦ 

"  Her  lot  is  on  you  :  to  be  found  untired 

Watching  the  stars  out  by  the  bed  of  pain. 
With  a  pale  cheek,  and  yet  a  brow  inspired, 

And  a  true  heart  of  hope,  though  hope  be  vain  ; 
JVIefekly  to  bear  with  wrong,  to  cheer  decay  ; 
And,  oh,  to  love,  through  all  things  :  therefore,  pray  !  "  * 

Beloved  ones,  the  lessons  of  the  Church,  in  these 
three  days,  as  specially,  on  this,  besides  the  triumphs  of 
THE  Crucified,  which  they  record,  have  snatches,  in 
them,  which  present  the  woman,  as  she  ought  to  be, 
with  an  inimitable  truth  and  tenderness.     I  can  but 

*  Mrs.  Hemans:   ^'■Evening  Prayer,  in  a  Girls'  School." 


134  THE   HOLY  WOMEN,  AT   THE   SEPULCHKE. 

hint  at  one  of  tliem ;  and  leave  it  to  your  hearts,  to 
pray  over  and  practise.  "When  all  the  worst  was  done, 
to  that  dear  Lamb,  Who  suffered  for  our  sins,  and 
pious  hands  had  laid  Him  in  His  rest,  the  eye  of 
woman  followed,  with  her  heart ;  and  marked  the 
sacred  spot.  And,  when  the  Sabbath  rest  was  over, 
and  before  the  day  had  dawned,  first  of  the  race,  and 
second  only  to  the  angels,  there  were  women  there,  with 
thoughts  of  piety ;  to  pour  their  costly  ointments,  out, 
on  His  remains,  and  to  embalm  Him,  with  their  tears. 
And,  therefore,  first,  to  them, 

"  Last  at  His  Cross,  and  earliest  at  His  grave," 

the  Resurrection  was  announced:  and  even  Apostles 
learned  from  women  the  triumphs  of  the  truth. 

"  Oh,  joy,  to  Mary,  first,  allow'd, 
When  roused,  from  weeping  o'er  His  shroud, 
*  By  His  own  calm,  self-soothing  tone, 

Breathing  her  name,  as  still  His  own. 

"  Joy  to  the  faithful  Three,  renew'd. 
As  their  glad  errand  they  pursued : 
Happy,  who  so  Christ's  word  convey, 
That  He  may  meet  them,  on  their  way. 

"  So  is  it  still :  to  holy  tears. 
In  lonely  hours,  Christ  risen  appears  : 
In  social  hours,  who  Christ  would  see, 
Must  turn  all  tasks  to  charity."  * 

My  beloved,  I  would  have  you  make  the  holy  women 
AT  THE  Sepulchee,  the  study  and  the  pattern  of  your  lives. 

*  Keble's  Christian  Year  :  Easter  Day. 


THE   HOLY   WOMEN,  AT   THE   SEPULCHRE.  135 

Emulate  tlieir  love,  their  piety,  their  charity.  Give 
your  first  thougJit-s  of  life,  your  every  daifs  first 
thoughts,  to  Christ  /  as  they,  so  early  in  the  morning, 
while  it  was  yet  dark,  were  at  His  tomb.  The  selfish- 
ness, and  self-indulgence,  which  would  keep  you  back, 
slay  at  His  Cross,  and  bury  in  His  grave.  And  go  to 
Him  with  full,  fresh,  hearts.  Let  no  one  thought  pre- 
occupy your  love.  He  gives  you  all :  and  all,  you  are 
or  have,  you  are  and  have,  in  Him.  And  bring  your 
best  to  Him.  The  sweetest  S23ices  you  can  buy;  no 
matter  what  they  cost.  The  fragi-ance,  sweeter  than  all 
frankincense,  of  your  unsullied  purity  in  heart  and 
life ;  of  your  unfaltering  devotion  to  His  name  and  ser- 
vice ;  of  your  unstinting  charity,  poured  out  in  acts  and 
offices  of  love,  upon  His  poor,  upon  His  widows,  upon 
His  orphans,  upon  every  foiTn  of  suffering  humanity,  in 
every  form  of  sympathy  and  bounty,  with  the  unre- 
serve of  that  fair  penitent,  whose  alabaster  box  of 
spikenard  filled  the  house,  full,  with  its  fragrance. 
These  be  the  studies  of  this  last  Easter,  that  you  pass 
with  me,  that  you  shall  bear  hence,  in  your  hearts,  and 
through  your  lives;  and,  in  the  service  of  the  Holy 
Women  at  the  Sepulchre,  you  shall  secure  their  bles- 
sing. Angels  shall  eveiywhere  attend  you,  on  your 
way,  to  cheer  and  comfort  you.  The  stone,  that  seemed 
impossible  to  your  weak  hearts,  a  strength,  not  yours, 
shall  roll  away,  before  you.  You  shall  renew,  mth 
every  day,  that  you  devote  to  God,  in  piety  and  char- 
ity, the  power  and  glory  of  the  Eesurrection,  in  your 
hearts,  renewed    to  holiness,  and    kindled    into   love. 


136  THE   HOLY    WOJIEN,    AT   THE   SEPULCHEE. 

You  sliall  be  messengers  of  consolation,  in  the  glad 
tidings  of  the  triumph  of  the  Crucified,  to  other  souls, 
less  favoured  than  your  own.  And,  when  your  day  of  life 
is  done,  and  you  must  pass  the  twilight  of  the  grave,  to 
reach  the  glories  of  mid-heaven,  you  shall  lie  down, 
beside  the  Sepulchre  of  Jesus;  sleep  sweetly  in  the 
shadow  of  His  Cross ;  and  rise,  in  beauty  and  in  glory, 
with  the  Maries,  that  He  loved  on  earth — and  with 
that  dear  child,^^  who  dropped,  untimely,  by  our  side, 
and  who  should  have  taken  part  in  our  solemnities, 
to-day,  and  joys,  with  us,  no  doubt,  in  Paradise — to  be 
the  sharers  of  His  joy,  in  Heaven. 

"  The  better  part,  with  Mary,  and  with  Euth, 

Chosen "  ye  have.      *         *         * 
Your  "  care  is  fix'd,  and  zealously  attends 

To  fill  "  your  "  odorous  lamps  "  with  deeds  of  light, 

And  hope,  that  reaps  not  shame.     Therefore,  be  sure, 
You,  "  when  the  Bridegroom,  with  His  faithful  friends, 

Passes  to  bliss,  at  the  mid-hour  of  night," 
Have  "  gain'd  "  your  "  entrance,"  Virgins  "wise  and  pure."  f 

*  Sarah  Wallace  Germain,  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Reuben  J.  Germain,  Principal 
of  St.  Mary's  Hall,  one  of  the  Graduating  Class,  and  among  its  loveliest  and  most 
hopeful,  died,  at  the  Christmas  Season. 

f  Adapted,  from  Milton's  Sonnet,  "  To  a  Virtuous  Young  Ladi/." 


XL 
THE  ELEVENTH  ADDRESS 

*  TO  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


REMEMBER  NOW  THY  CEEATOK  IN  THE  DAYS  OF  THY  YOUTH. 

This  is  a  liappy  day,  for  seventeen  heartlis ;  and,  for 
my  heart.  So  many  daughters  leave  my  side,  to-day,  to 
be  the  bearers,  to  so  many  homes,  of  highest  human  joy. 
If  it  be  "  more  blessed  to  give,  than  to  receive,"  I  surely 
may  account  it  hapj)iiiess,  to  have  made  such  happiness, 
for  seventeen  homes,  three  times.  The  daughters  of  St. 
Mary's  Hall,  who  have  completed  its  full  course,  and 
borne,  from  here,  the  best,  that  we  can  give  them,  num- 
ber, to-day,  one  hundred  and  sixty-four.  Ten  times  that 
many  have  enjoyed,  in  various  degrees,  the  nurture  of 
these  sacred  walls.  Is  it  not  something,  to  have  suf- 
fered for  ?  "Were  it  not  worthy  to  have  died  for  ?  Is 
it  not  much,  to  thank  God  for  ?  Most  heartily  do  I 
thank  God,  for  it.  And,  in  the  sense  of  so  much  hap- 
piness, for  so  many  hearths  and  hearts,  sink  and  subdue 
the  grief,  that  fills  my  own. 

*  March,  A.  D.  1854. 


138  EEMEMBER  NOW  THY  CEEATOE 

It  is  not  in  tlie  view  of  learning  or  accompli  sliments, 
beloved  ones,  that  I  speak  thus.  Were  you  ten  times 
as  learned,  and  an  hundred  times  as  well  accomplished, 
I  should  feel  no  certainty,  that  your  attainments,  here, 
were  for  your  happiness ;  or,  for  the  happiness  of  others. 
The  highest  human  graces,  that  a  woman  ever  won, 
have  but  ensnared  her  soul,  in  vanity  and  sin ;  and 
wrought  destruction,  through  their  attractions,  for  the 
souls  of  others.  And  intellectual  powers  and  intellec- 
tual gifts,  not  subordinated  to  the  providential  orderings 
of  God,  not  chastened  and  controlled  by  His  renewing 
grace,  are,  at  this  time,  unsexing  women ;  and  thrusting, 
on  the  astonished  world,  a  race  of  monsters,  in  that 
Amazonian  crew,  who  clamour,  noAV,  for  "Woman's 
Rights,"  such  as  no  mythology  has  ever  dreamed  of. 

What  has  been  aimed  at  chiefly,  here,  and  what 
alone  can  be  relied  on,  to  secure  your  personal  happiness, 
to  make  you  comforts  to  your  homes,  and  ornaments 
and  blessings  to  your  race,  is  your  religious  training : 
the  impression  of  your  hearts,  while  they  are  new  and 
plastic,  yet,  with  the  principles  and  precepts  of  God's 
holy  word ;  and  the  subjection  of  your  lives,  in  youthful 
piety,  to  its  divine,  renemng,  influences. 

There  is  nothing  more  observable  in  Holy  Scripture, 
than  the  way  in  which  it  treats  the  young.  The  fact  of 
their  inherited  depravity,  it  everywhere  admits.  That 
without  holiness,  no  one  can  see  the  Lord,  it  every- 
where proclaims.  It  never  loses  sight  of  the  great  plan 
of  God,  in  their  redemption  and  salvation,  through  Him, 
who  died,  for  them,  and  rose  again.     Yet,  it  addresses 


IlSr    THE    DAYS    OF    THY    YOUTH.  139 

them,  in  no  liarsli  words.  It  lays  upon  tliem  no  hard 
yokes.  It  never  overloads,  it  never  worries,  them.  It 
approaches  them,  with  the  arguments  of  affection.  It 
addresses  them,  in  the  language  of  love.  It  asks  of 
them,  indeed,  their  all.  And,  yet,  in  words  of  tenderest, 
most  engaging,  love :  "  My  child,  give  me  thy  heart ! " 
Or,  w^th  a  still,  small  voice  of  fond  expostulation ;  serene 
as  summer  dew,  and  searching,  like  it,  into  every  turn 
and  tendril  of  their  nature, "  Remember,  now,  thy  Creator 
in  the  days  of  thy  youth ;  while  the  evil  days  come  not, 
nor  the  years  draw  nigh  when  thou  shalt  say,  I  have  no 
pleasure  in  them." 

Beloved  children,  these  sacred  words  addi^ess  them- 
selves, to-day,  especially,  to  you.  They  are  the  parting 
counsel  of  my  love.  They  are  the  token  I  would  have 
you  take  with  you,  fi'om  here,  as  the  memorial  of  this 
nursery  of  your  childhood ;  and  keep,  forever,  in  your 
bosom,  as  the  armour  and  amulet  of  your  youth.  Their 
appeal  is  to  your  heart.  They  speak  to  you,  of  youi" 
Creator.  They  seek  to  pre-engage,  for  Him,  your  truth- 
fulness and  tender-heartedness  of  youth.  You  are,  still, 
new,  from  His  creating  hand.  The  world,  about  you, 
is  all  new.  It  seems  to  you,  as  Eden  did,  to  Adam, 
when  he  woke,  from  that  deep  sleep ;  all  beauty,  fra- 
grance and  delight.  There  is  verdure,  upon  every  tree. 
There  is  perfume,  in  every  floAver.  There  is  freshness, 
in  every  fruit.  You  have  companionship,  in  your  enjoy- 
ment. Your  social  nature  meets  response.  The  very 
air  is  balm.  Not  a  movement,  on  the  earth,  or  in  the 
heavens,  that  is  not  made  to  music.     No  feeling,  but  of 


140  EEMEMBEE  NOW  THY  CREATOR 

joy.  No  dream,  but  of  deliglit.  And,  now,  the  appeal 
is  to  your  heart.  It  is  tliat,  in  you,  wliicli  is  tlie  tender- 
est  and  the  truest.  It  has  not  been  hardened  by  the 
W"orld.  It  has  not  been  seduced  by  the  Devil.  It  has 
blushes,  yet ;  and  it  has  tears.  It  can  feel,  yet ;  and  it 
can  remember.  It  yet  can  yearn.  It  can  yet  be  grateful. 
It  can  still  love.  It  is  the  very  time,  then,  to  speak  to 
you,  beloved  ones,  of  your  Creator.  He  spread  the 
earth  with  verdure.  He  filled  the  air  with  fragrance. 
He  hung  the  heavens  with  majesty.  He  made  all  na- 
ture, beauty,  to  your  eye,  or  music  to  your  ear.  He  get 
your  heart,  with  pulses ;  and  made  them  quick  with 
pleasures,  and  tuned  them  all  to  joy.  And  is  it  yoii^ 
beloved,  that  shall  forget  Ilim  ?  Is  it  by  you^  that  He 
shall  not  be  remembered  ?  Is  it  you.,  that  shall  not  love 
Him?  Is  the  tree,  where  your  childish  sports  w^ere 
sheltered  from  the  heat  of  noon,  forgotten  %  Is  the  nook 
forgotten,  where  your  summer  Saturdays  were  spent  ? 
Could  you  forget  your  father's  smile  %  Your  mother's 
tear  ?  And,  will  you  not  remember  your  Creator,  now  % 
Can  you  refuse  your  Heavenly  Father,  when  He  says, 
My  child,  give  Me  thy  heart  ? 

Beloved  children,  what  the  voice  of  God  thus  seeks 
from  you,  in  Holy  Scripture,  His  holy  Church  enforces 
and  promotes.  She  took  you,  when  you  breathed  first, 
to  her  arms.  She  sprinkled  you,  in  her  Redeemer's 
name,  with  the  pure  water,  from  his  pierced  side,  which 
was  to  make  you  His.  She  laid  you  on  her  full  and 
fragrant  breast.  She  nurtured  you  with  the  sincere 
milk  of  the  life-giving  word.     She  fed  you  with  conven- 


IN  THE  DAYS  OF  THY  YOUTH.  141 

lent  food.  She  stayed  your  tottering  feet.  She  tuned 
your  stammering  tongues.  You  heard  her  voice,  in 
prayers ;  and  learned  to  i)ray.  You  heard  her  voice,  in 
psalms  and  sacred  songs ;  and  learned  to  sing.  You 
listened  to  her  old  majestic  creeds ;  and  they  fell  in 
upon  your  heart.  You  joined  in  her  deep  penitential 
litanies  ;  and  they  subdued  your  souls.  You  heard,  in 
her,  the  holy  word  of  God ;  and  it  imbued  your  lives. 
You  have  been  catechized  by  her,  in  the  way,  you 
ought  to  go ;  until  your  feet  have  learned  to  love  it. 
Her  voice  was  like  your  mother's,  in  the  lullabies,  that 
soothed  your  infancy ;  and  you  have  been  swayed  by 
it,  in  childhood.  Her  hand  was  like  your  mother's, 
when  it  led  you  through  the  fields,  at  tmlight,  or  to 
the  house  of  God,  on  Sunday  morning ;  and  you  have 
been  guided  by  it,  thus  far,  in  your  youth.  Still  cling, 
beloved  ones,  to  that  dear,  guiding  hand.  Still,  yield 
yourselves,  beloved  ones,  to  that  sweet,  soothing  voice  : 
"  Remember,  now,  thy  Creator,  in  the  days  of  thy 
youth ;  while  the  evil  days  come  not,  nor  the  years  draw 
nigh,  when  thou  shalt  say,  I  have  no  pleasure  in  them." 

Now,  in  thy  youth,  beseech  of  Him, 

Who  giveth,  upbraiding  not ; 
That  His  light,  in  thy  heart,  become  not  dim, 

And  His  love  be  unforgot : 
And  thy  God,  in  thy  darlcest  days,  will  be 
Greenness  and  beauty  and  strength  to  thee  ; 
And  the  Cross,  which  was  stained  with  blood,  for  Thcc, 
Secure,  to  thy  faith,  the  victory. 


XII. 
THE  TWELFTH  ADDRESS 

*  TO  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


THE     TWO     NEW     GRAVES. 


There  are  two  new  graves,  in  sweet  St.  Mary's  Cliurcli 
Yard ;  to  wliicli  my  heart  must  ever  turn.  1  have  stood  at 
both  of  them,  within  four  months.  And,  there  were  tears, 
of  mine,  mixed,  with  the  earth,  in  both.  Pastoral  tears. 
Love's  tears.  Tears  of  sorrow.  But,  not,  of  one,  who 
son'ows,  "  as  others,  who  have  no  hope."  They,  who  sleep 
in  them,  fell  asleep,  in  Jesus.  They  rest,  in  Him.  They 
will  be  with  Him,  at  the  Resurrection.  "  For,  if  we 
believe  that  Jesus  died,  and  rose  again,  even  so,  them, 
also,  which  sleep  in  Jesus,  will  God  bring  with  Him." 
They  were  of  your  sex,  my  children  ;  and  were  patterns 
for  you,  both.  Come,  with  me,  for  a  moment,  to  these 
graves.  Nay,  do  not  shrink  !  There  is  no  sadness  in 
such  graves.  Jesus  was  there,  before  them.  And,  has 
left  a  blessing,  with  the  grave  clothes.  And,  a  fra- 
grance, sweeter,  far,  than  all  the  spices,  which  the  holy 

*  March,  A.  D.  1855. 


THE   TWO   ITEW   GEAVES.  143 

women  brought  for  tlie  embalming  of  His  body.    Come, 
witli  me,  darlings,  for  a  moment,  to  their  graves. 

In  the  grave,  that  we  shall  go  to,  first,  sleeps  one, 
who  had  seen  ninety  winters.  Think  of  that,  my 
children  !  Ninety  winters  !  She  was  tw^elve  years 
older  than  our  Nation.  She  was  of  patriot  blood. 
And  was,  herself,  a  patriot.  Scarcely  an  earthly  bless- 
ing, that  was  not  mixed,  in  her  full  cup.  Position ;  in- 
fluence ;  wealth ;  domestic  happiness  ;  troops  of  friends ; 
good  health,  for  more  than  eighty  years  :  what  the  w^orld 
calls,  a  prosperous  fortune,  was  never  more  completely 
realized.  And,  yet,  they  did  not  spoil  her.  They  did 
not  touch  the  substance  of  her  soul.  She  only  seemed 
to  know  them,  as  the  motives  for  habitual  thankfulness. 
She  was  the  simplest,  the  humblest,  the  gentlest,  the 
least  selfish,  of  women.  She  was  the  "  little  child,"  of 
Jesus  Christ.  In  the  world,  she  was  not  of  the  world. 
Or,  only,  of  it,  to  be  a  blessing  to  it.  The  freest  from 
faults,  of  any  one,  I  ever  knew ;  she  was  the  most  peni- 
tential. With  a  hand,  that  scattered  bounties,  like  the 
spring;  with  a  tongue,  that  dropped  blessings,  like 
the  dew ;  with  a  heart,  which  realized,  as  far  as  human 
nature  may,  the  Apostolic  portraiture  of  love ;  kind, 
envying  not,  thinking  no  evil,  believing  all  things, 
hoping  all  things,  enduring  all  things :  she,  yet,  could 
find  no  word  of  David,  strong  enough  to  bear  the  im- 
pression of  her  own  unworthiness.  In  the  habitual,  life- 
long, practice  of  "  whatsoever  things  are  true,  w^hatsoever 
things  are  venerable,  whatsoever  things  are  just,  what- 
soever things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things  are  lovely. 


144  THE   TWO   NEW   GKAVES. 

whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report ;  if  there  be  any 
virtue,  if  there  be  any  praise "" :  the  prayer,  which 
seemed,  to  her,  the  most  expressive  of  her  case  and 
character,  was,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me,  the  siniier  !  " 
Thus  moulded,  and  sustained,  by  grace,  the  purchase  of 
the  Cross,  through  her  long  life ;  her  daily  effort,  to 
adorn  the  doctrine  of  God,  her  Saviour,  in  all  things ; 
the  posture,  which  Mrs.  *  Bradfokd  chose,  to  die  in,  w^as 
that  of  His  ow^n  little,  trusting,  child  :  and  "  Even  so, 
come.  Lord  Jesus,"  were  the  w^ords,  which  bore  her 
parting  spirit,  to  its  resting  place,  in  Paradise. 

Three  steps,  my  children,  and  we  stand,  by  the 
new  grave,  in  which  the  mortal  sleeps,  of  a  fair  girl, 
who  saw  but  nineteen  summers :  and,  then,  passed  to 
the  bright  w^orld,  where  all  is  always  Spring.  Three 
years  ago,  she  stood,  my  children,  where  you  stand. 
Three  years  ago,  she  knelt,  where  you  have  knelt. 
Three  years  ago,  she  went,  from  here ;  as  you  are  soon, 
to  go.  Like  yours,  her  childhood  had  been  nurtured, 
here.  Like  yours,  her  youth,  here,  blushed,  into  its 
bloom.  Like  yours,  her  feet  reached,  here,  the  verge  of 
opening  womanhood.  She  was  taught,  here,  as  you 
have  been.  She  prayed,  here,  as  you  have  prayed. 
Like  some  of  you,  the  heavenly  grace,  which  waits  upon 
you,  here,  did  not  possess  her  soul,  with  the  full  meas- 
ure of  its  2^0 wer  and  peace.  Like  some  of  you,  she 
went,  from  this  divine  and  sacred  fold,  with  hopes,  too 

*  The  daugliter  of  the  Hon.  Elias  Boudinot,  President  of  the  Congress  of  the 
TJnited  States,  in  1*783  ;  the  niece  of  Richard  Stockton,  Esq.,  a  signer  of  the  Dec- 
laration ;  and  the  wife  of  Wilham  Bradford,  Attorney-General  of  the  United  States, 
tinder  General  Washington. 


THE   TWO    NEW    GEAVES.  145 

higli,  of  what  this  world  can  yield ;  a  heart,  too  much 
inclined  to  seek  its  rest,  on  earth.  But,  the  Good  Shej)- 
herd  loved  His  lamb,  too  well,  to  let  her  wander ;  and 
be  lost.  And,  so.  He  gently  touched  her,  with  His 
hand.  And,  there  was  a  chill,  upon  the  current  of 
her  life.  And,  a  flush,  upon  the  beauty  of  her  cheek. 
And,  a  flutter,  in  the  pulses  of  her  heart.  And,  before 
she  was  nineteen,  she  found,  that  this  vvas  not  her 
home.  Before  she  was  nineteen,  it  was  her  heart's 
desire,  to  depart,  and  be  with  Christ.  Before  she  was 
nineteen,  the  hymns  which  she  commended  to  you,  my 
children,  as  comprising  all,  you  need  the  most,  and 
should  most  earnestly  embrace,  were,  "  Rock  of  ages, 
cleft,  for  me,"  and,  "  Jesus,  Saviour  of  my  soul."  And, 
before  she  was  nineteen,  the  gentle  Shephei'd  sweetly 
drew  His  lamb,  into  the  fold :  and  Fanny  Ekgle  slept, 
in  her  youthful  piety,  in  sweet  St.  Mary's  Church  Yard, 
beside  the  venerable  saintliness  of  Mrs.  Beadfoed. 

Sweet  Fanny,  I  had  loved  her, 

From  the  time  that  she  was  born ; 
And  watched  her,  with  the  tenderest  eye, 

Through  all  life's  opening  morn  ; 
And  poured,  for  her,  the  pastoral  prayer, 

That  God,  her  feet,  would  guide ; 
And,  all  along  the  world's  wild  ways, 

Still  keep  her,  by  His  side. 

How  glad  I  was  to  meet  her, 

Along  the  shaded  lane  ; 
With  smiling  face,  and  books  in  hand, 

To  join  the  maiden  train. 

VOL.  IV. — 10 


146  THE   TWO   NEW    GEAVES. 

And,  when,  from  sweet  St.  Mary's  walls, 
The  time  had  come  to  part ; 

The  blessing,  which  went  with  her, 
Bore,  with  it,  all  my  heart. 

The  world  lay  bright,  before  her, 

All  sunshine,  and  all  flowers : 
No  cloud,  upon  its  azure  sky  ; 

No  blight,  upon  its  bowers. 
Her  eager  eye  shot  forward, 

Through  life's  untrodden  ways  ; 
And  filled  her  heart  with  fancies, 

Of  long  and  joyous  days. 

But,  sickness  came,  and  anguish, 

And  dimmed  the  beaming  eye  ; 
Life  seemed  a  fleeting  vapour  ; 

Its  music,  but  a  sigh : 
Till,  God,  for  things  eternal, 

Her  youthful  heart,  had  won, 
And  drawn  her,  sweetly,  to  Himself, 

Through  Christ,  His  suffering  Son. 

It  was  a  silent  chamber — 

We  knelt  beside  her,  there  ; 
To  pour  our  hearts  together, 

In  the  Church's  voice  of  prayer  : 
And  the  Bread  of  Life  was  broken, 

And  the  Cup  of  Life  was  poured  ; 
And  we  feasted,  in  our  sorrows. 

On  the  Banquet  of  the  Lord. 

Again,  that  silent  chamber — 
"With  its  ministries  of  love  : 

Where  the  flitting,  flickering,  spirit, 
With  earth's  hold  upon  it,  strove  : 


THE   TWO    NEW   GKAVES.  147 

And  we  watched  the  life-stream,  ebbing, 

Till  the  latest  drop  was  shed  : 
And  we  knew,  our  sweetest  Fanny, 

Was  among  the  blessed  dead. 

Once  more,  that  silent  chamber — 

A  sacred  chamber,  now  ; 
Where  love's  last  kiss  I  printed, 

On  that  cold  and  marble  brow. 
There  were  fairest  flowers,  around  her, 

That  affection's  hand  could  shower ; 
But,  I  knew  her,  safe,  in  Paradise, 

An  immortal,  fairer,  flower. 

Sweet  Fanny,  we  have  laid  her, 
Amidst  the  drifted  snow  ; 

But  we  know  her  glad  feet  wander. 
By  the  crystal  river's  flow, 

Where  the  Lamb,  His  loved  ones,  leading- 
No  sorrows,  cares,  or  fears, — 

With  food,  from  heaven,  is  feeding, 
While  He  wipes  away  their  tears. 

Sweet  Fanny,  though  we  mourn  her, 

We  would  not  call  her,  here  ; 
But  praise  the  Grace,  that  bore  her, 

To  that  unclouded  sphere  : 
With  humble  hope,  to  follow  on. 

The  path,  her  footsteps  trod  ; 
Till,  saved,  through  Christ,  we  find,  at  last, 

Our  darling,  with  our  God. 

But,  three  more  words,  my  daughters,  by  tliese  two 
new  graves.  Learn^  there^  the  poiver  of  Grace.  To 
change  the  heart.  To  sanctify  the  life.  To  overcome 
the  world.      To  give  the  victory,  in  death.      Again, 


148  THE   TWO    NEW    GEAVES, 

See,  how  it  loorhs,  in  cases  differing  so  ividely,  the  same 
heautiful  result.  The  matron  of  iiiiiet}\  The  maiden 
of  nineteen.  The  same  peace.  The  same  hope.  The 
same  consolation.  The  same  dependence,  on  the  Cross. 
The  same  comfort,  in  j^rayer.  The  same  strength, 
through  the  Holy  Eucharist.  The  same  loosening,  from 
the  world.  The  same  sun^ender,  to  the  Saviour.  The 
same  blessed  hope  of  immortality.  "  I  know  that  my 
Redeemer  liveth."  "  Though  I  walk  thi'ough  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  mil  fear  no  e\dl :  for  Thou  art 
with  me ;  Thy  rod  and  Thy  staff,  they  comfort  me." 
"  Thou  shalt  show  me  the  path  of  life  :  in  Thy  presence 
is  the  fulness  of  joy,  and  at  Thy  right  hand  there  is 
pleasure  for  evermore."  Once  more.  Learn,  hy  these 
two  new  graves,  the  wisdom  and  the  hajypiness  of  early 
seeking  God.  Think  of  that  life  of  ninety  years,  without 
the  comforts  of  His  Grace.  Think  of  that  early  death, 
without  its  hopes.  It  was  the  parting  message,  which 
that  dear  child  sent  you,  by  me  ;  "  Remember,  now,  thy 
Creator,  in  the  days  of  thy  youth."  Think,  if  the  next 
new  grave  be  yours  !  Think  of  a  grave,  without  the 
Cross !  Think  of  the  Judge,  should  He  not  also  be 
your  Saviour  !     Think  of  eternity,  away  from  God  ! 


XIII. 
THE  THIRTEENTH  ADDRESS 

*  TO  THE   GRADUATING  CLASS   AT   ST.  MARY'S   HALL. 


THE    HANDMAID    OF    THE    LOKD. 

"  Behold  the  hajstdmah)  of  the  Loed."  How  beau- 
tiful that  scene  !  The  meek  and  matchless  Mary  goes 
about,  among  the  cares  and  toils  of  her  poor  home.  Or, 
reads  of  Ruth,  the  loving  and  the  true ;  or  of  the  patriot 
Esther,  who  saved  her  people,  from  the  rage  of  Haman. 
Or,  meditates  some  glowing  theme,  of  rapt  Isaiah.  Or, 
warbles  some  high  strain,  from  the  ancestral  harp  of 
David.  Or,  kneels  down,  to  pray.  Upon  her  maiden 
privacy,  a  light,  from  Heaven,  breaks  in.  It  is  the 
shadow  of  an  Angel.  Gabriel  is  with  her,  with  a  mes- 
sage, from  the  Lord.  And  such  a  message  !  She  knew 
the  pangs,  which  it  would  cost.  She  knew  what  evil 
thoughts  would  rise,  in  evil  men.  She  knew  how  Jo- 
seph's loving  nature  must  be  ^vrung.  She  was  a  woman, 
and  a  maiden  :  and  she  knew,  and  felt,  it  all.  But,  she 
knew  it  was  God's  will.     And  she  said,  "  Behold,  the 

*  March,  A.  D.  1856. 


150  THE   HANDMAID   OF   THE   LORD. 

handmaid  of  the  Lord ;  be  it  unto  me,  according  to  thy 
word ! " 

"  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord ! "  How  often, 
have  your  eyes,  dear  children,  rested  on  these  words !  * 
It  is  mine,  to-day,  to  write  them,  on  your  hearts. 

"  Mother  of  Jesus,  blessed  Maid, 
Lily  of  Eden's  fragrant  shade, 

Who  can  express  the  love  ; 
Which  nurtured  thee,  so  pure  and  sweet, 
To  make  thy  heart,  a  shelter,  meet, 

For  the  celestial  Dove  !  " 

"  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord ! "  "  The  ham 
maid  of  the  Lord "  must  trust.  It  is  the  noblest  trait, 
which  nature  wins,  from  grace.  To  take  God's  way ; 
and  think  it  best.  Nay ;  to  be  sure,  it  is  :  because,  it 
^6'  His  way.  It  is  not  natural,  to  do  so.  Nature  is  self- 
willed  ;  loves  its  own  way ;  will  have  it,  if  it  can  ;  and, 
fret,  if  it  cannot.  "  The  handmaid  of  the  Lord  "  will 
put  her  trust  in  Him.  She  will  say,  as  Mary  said,  "  Be 
it  unto  me,  according  to  Thy  word."  She  will  say,  as 
Mary's  Saviour  said,  ''  Nevertheless,  not  as  I  will ;  but 
as  Thou  wilt."  No  matter  what  it  is.  She  will  believe, 
that  God  knows  best.  She  will  commit  her  way  to  Him. 
She  will  put  her  trust  in  Him.  She  will  be  sure,  that 
He  will  bring  it  to  pass.  If  not,  in  her  way ;  in  a  bet- 
ter. Like  that  afflicted  one,  of  old  :  "  I  know,  O  Lord, 
that  Thy  judgments  are  right ;  and  that  Thou,  of  very 
faithfulness,  hast  caused  me  to  be  troubled." 

*  They  are  the  legend,  in  the  Chancel  window  of  the  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Inno- 
cents, at  St.  Mary's  Hall ;  in  which  the  morning  and  the  evening  prayer  are 
daily  said. 


THE   HANDMAID    OF   THE   LORD.  151 

"  Behold  tlie  liandmaid  of  the  Lord,"  "  The  hand- 
maid of  the  Lord "  must  tvait.  This,  if  possible,  is  even 
harder  than  to  trust.  It  needs  more  grace.  Nature  is 
impatient.  If  it  wants  any  thing,  it  wants  it,  now.  If 
it  is  to  do  any  thing,  it  must  do  it,  now.  If  it  has  any 
thing  to  suffer,  it  must  meet  it,  now.  It  can  do  any 
thing,  better  than  wait.  How  we  see  this,  in  a  little 
child !  And  how  few  of  us  are  more  than  little  childi-en, 
in  this  matter  !  But,  God,  who  need  not,  uses  time  in 
every  thing.  Time  to  create  the  world :  which  might 
have  burst  into  full  being,  as  the  light  did.  Time,  for 
the  germ  to  start,  and  for  the  bud  to  swell,  and  for  the 
flower  to  sweeten  :  when  the  fidl  cluster  might  spring, 
purple,  on  the  Vine.  Time  for  the  embryo,  and  for  the 
infant,  and  for  the  child,  and  for  the  youth,  and  for  the 
man  :  who  might  have  stood,  at  once,  erect  and  grand, 
as  Adam  did,  in  Eden.  Time,  for  the  developement 
of  the  body.  Time,  for  the  unfolding  of  the  mind. 
Time,  for  the  maturity  of  the  character.  Time, 
for  the  experience  of  life.  Time,  for  the  endurance  of 
death.  Time,  for  the  encounter  of  eternity.  "  The  hand- 
maid of  the  Lord  "  must  wait.  "  Wait,  I  say,  on  the 
Lord."  Not,  when  I  will,  but  when  Thou  wilt.  Thou, 
Who  canst  wait  on  me,  teach  me  to  wait  on  Thee ;  to 
choose  Thy  time,  as  well  as  take  Thy  way.  Thou,  Who 
art  patient,  because  Thou  art  immortal,  imbue  me  mth 
Thy  patience  ;  that  I  may  be  partaker  of  Thy  immortal- 
ity !     "  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord  !  " 

"  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord."  "  The  hand- 
maid of  the  Lord^^  must  suffer.    Suffering  is  an  incident 


152  THE   HAJSTDMAID    OF   THE   LOKD. 

of  huinanity.     Witli  women,  it  is  a  habit.     It  is  con- 
stitutional, witli  tlieir  sex.    Suffering,  as  wives.     Suffer- 
ing, as  mothers.     Suffering,  as  women.     Nor  is  it  con- 
stitutional, only  ;  but,  of  their  temperament.     The  sen- 
sibility, which  gives  a  keener  zest  to  their  enjoyment ; 
the  susceptibility,  which  so  enhances  their  loveliness ; 
are  elementary,  also,  in  their  suffering.     Nay,  it  is  in 
their  gentleness,  and  tenderness,  and  delicateness,  and 
frailness,  that  the  secret  of  their  strength  lies  hid.     The 
weak  are  the  only  conquerors  of  the  strong.     It  is  theu' 
weakness,  which  wins  for  them  an  unresisted  victory. 
And,  mark  the  beautiful  compensation.    From  suffering, 
their  meekness.    From  suffering,  their  endurance.    From 
suffering,  theii'   thoughtfulness.     From   suffering,  their 
self  collectedness.  From  suffering,  their  lovingness.  From 
suffering,  their  confidence.     From  suffering,  their  piety. 
How  could  our  daughters  soothe  us,  how  could  our  sis- 
ters cheer  us,  how  could  our  mothers  nurse  us,  how  could 
our  wives  comfort,  sustain,  and  bless,  us,  but  from  the 
sympathy,  which  only  comes  of  suffering  ?     And,  what 
but  that  confidingness  and  tenderheartedness,  and  look- 
ing on,  beyond  the  present,  to  a  better  and  a  happier 
future,  which  suffering  teaches  best,  and  soonest,  brought 
women,  to  be  ministering  angels,  to  the  Saviour,  in  His 
life  ;  and,  when  Apostles  fled,  the  martyi's  of  His  death  ? 

"  Last,  at  his  Cross,  and  earliest,  at  His  grave." 

"  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord."  "  The  hand- 
maid of  the  Lord  "  must  jpray.  The  sex,  to  which  we 
owe  our  mothers,  is  more  native  to  religion.     We  see  it 


THE   HANDMAID    OF   THE   LORD.  15S 

everywhere.  We  feel  it,  always.  It  fills  our  Churches, 
with  worshippers.  It  surrounds  our  altars,  with  coni- 
uiunicants.  It  supplies  our  hospitals,  with  nurses.  It 
dignifies  humanity,  with  the  blessed  names  of  Sisters  of 
Mercy,  and  Sisters  of  Charity.  It  has  adorned  the  age 
mth  Florence  Nightingale  ;  the  very  darling  of  the  hu- 
man race.     "  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Lord." 

"  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the  Loed."  Beloved 
ones,  may  you,  indeed,  be  such  !  The  handmaids  of 
the  Lord,  to  trust.  The  handmaids  of  the  Lord,  to  wait. 
And,  since  you  are,  and  must  be,  the  handmaids  of  the 
Lord,  to  suffer ;  the  handmaids  of  the  Lord,  to  pray. 

"  Oh  joyous  creatures,  that  will  sink  to  rest, 

Lightly,  when  eve's  pure  orisons  are  done. 
As  birds,  with  slumber's  honey-dew,  oppressed, 

Midst  the  dim  folded  leaves,  at  set  of  sun  : 
Lift  up  your  hearts ;  though,  yet,  no  sorrow  lies 
Dark,  in  the  summer  heaven  of  those  clear  eyes. 

Though,  fresh,  within  your  breast,  the  untroubled  springs 

Ot  hope  make  melody,  where'er  ye  tread  ; 
And,  o'er  your  sleep,  bright  shadows,  from  the  wings 

Of  spirits,  visiting  but  youth,  be  spread ; 
Yet,  in  those  flute-like  voices,  mingling  low, 
Is  woman's  tenderness  :  how  soon,  her  wo  ! 

Her  lot  is  on  you — silent  tears  to  weep, 

And  patient  smiles  to  wear,  through  suffering's  hour ; 

And,  sumless  riches,  from  affection's  deep, 
To  pour,  on  broken  reeds,  a  wasted  shower  ; 

And,  to  make  idols,  and  to  find  them  clay, 

And,  to  bewail  that  worship  :  therefore,  pray. 


154  THE   HANDMAID    OF   THE   LORD. 

Her  lot  is  on  you — to  be  found  untired, 

Watching  the  stars  out,  by  the  bed  of  pain, 
With  a  pale  cheek,  and,  yet,  a  brow  inspired, 

And  a  true  heart  of  hope,  though  hope  be  vain ; 
Meekly  to  bear  with  wrong,  to  cheer  decay  ; 
And,  oh,  to  love  through  all  things  :  therefore,  pray. 

And,  take  the  thought  of  this  calm  parting  time 
With  its  low  murmuring  sounds  and  sacred  light, 

On,  through  the  dark  days,  fading  from  their  prime, 
As  a  sweet  dew,  to  keep  your  souls  from  blight. 

Earth  will  forsake.     Oh,  happy,  to  have  given 

The  unbroken  heart's  first  fragrance,  unto  Heaven." 

My  darlings,  we  are  now  to  part.  We  have  lived 
and  loved  together,  many  happy  years.  But,  love  must 
be  unselfish.  Its  fondest  token  and  its  truest  triumph 
are  in  sacrifice.  Go,  then,  to  be  the  light  of  other  hearths, 
the  joy  of  other  hearts.  Go,  to  be  daughters,  sisters, 
wives.  Go,  to  shed  fragrance,  on  your  homes.  Go,  to 
make  sunshine  in  dark  places.  Go,  to  be  pillars  of  the 
Chui'ch.  Go,  to  be  comforters  of  age.  Go,  to  be  sooth- 
ers of  affliction.  Go,  to  be  teachers  of  the  young,  and 
patterns  to  your  sex,  and  blessings  to  your  kind.  Wher- 
ever you  may  be,  whatever  you  may  do,  however  you 
may  have  to  suffer,  bear,  ever,  in  your  heart  of  hearts, 
that  sacred  scroll ;  which,  for  the  last  time,  now,  may  fill 
your  moistened  eyes ;  "  Behold  the  handmaid  of  the 
Lord ! "     Be,  everywhere,  be,  always,  be,  in  every  way, 

THE  HANDMAIDS  OF  THE  LoRD. 


XIV. 
THE  FOURTEENTH  ADDRESS 

*T0  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


THE   HOME ;    THE    SCHOOL  ;    THE   CHUECH. 

By  tlie  good  liand  of  God,  upon  me,  I  have  lived, 
to  see  St.  Mary's  Hall,  of  age.  Our  next  birth-day  is 
our  one  and  twentieth  :  and,  as  if  to  mark  the  year  of 
our  majority,  we  exceed,  by  seven,  the  highest  number, 
that  has  ever  graduated.  To  day,  we  send  forth,  fi-om 
our  guarded  hearth,  and  sacred  shrine,  three  and 
twenty — which,  but  for  failing  health,  had  been  twenty- 
four  f — who  have,  for  years,  been  daughters  of  our  house 
and  heart.  To  lose  the  loving  words  and  cheering 
smiles  of  four  and  twenty  daughters,  from  one  old 
man's  home,  is  not  a  loss,  that  can  be  estimated,  in  any 
language,  or  by  any  figures.  But,  then,  what  is  it,  to- 
have  given,  to  the  world,  in  one  day,  four  and  twenty 
women  ? 

St.  Mary's  Hall  was  opened,  on  the  first  day  of  May, 

*  March,  A.  D.  1857. 

f  One,  who,  from  infirm  health,  was  unable  to  complete  the  course  ;  but  hopes 
to  return. 


156         THE  home;  the  school;  the  church. 

in  tlie  year  of  our  Lord,  1837.  I  was  young,  then ;  and 
full  of  hope.  I  do  not  feel,  now,  one  day  older  :  nor,  am 
I,  one  whit,  less  hopeful.  In  the  early  years  of  its 
existence,  I  was  often  ashed — not,  however,  for  the  last 
twelve — why,  I  began*  with  a  girls'  school.  It  was 
a  thoughtless  question;  w^hich  no  one  should  have 
ashed,  who  ever  had  a  mother.  I  thank  God,  that  the 
wisdom  of  the  act  has  been,  long  since,  fully  justified. 
More  than  two  thousand  girls  have  gone  out,  from  these 
walls.  Too  many  of  them,  by  far,  have  not  stayed, 
long  enough.  But,  wherever  I  hear  of  them — and  they 
are  found,  in  every  state,  throughout  the  Union — I 
hear  of  them,  as  centres  of  good  influences ;  and,  in  the 
regions,  where  the  Church  still  sti'uggles,  for  a  foot-hold, 
they  are  welcomed,  as  the  Missionary's  most  efficient 
helpers,  or  best  substitutes,  I  aimed,  at  this.  That  they 
should  be  daughters,  sisters,  wives  and  mothers,  to  bless 
and  sanctify  their  homes ;  and,  that  they  should  shed 
out,  on  the  world,  around  them,  the  light  and  warmth 
of  their  own  consecrated  hearths.  And,  I  have  not 
been  disappointed.  While,  in  the  loving  way,  in  which, 
in  letters,  that  would  make  a  volume,  which  have, 
lately,  come,  to  me,f  they  ascribe  the  good,  that  is  in 
them,  and  the  happiness,  which  they  enjoy,  to  their 
religious  training,  here,  I  find  an  overpayment,  for  ten 
thousand  times,  the  loss,  and  suffering  and  sorrow,  with 
which  God  has  pleased  to  visit  me. 

*  Burlington  College  was  opened,  in  1846. 

f  At  my  request,  that  all,  who  had  been  here,  would  inform  me  of  their 
whereabout. 


THE  home;  the  school;  the  chuech.         157 

St.  Mary's  Hall  is,  just,  what  it  was  meant  to  be. 
After  the  trial  of  so  many  years,  it  is  but  justice  to  the 
case,  to  say,  that  it  has  done  just,  what  it  was  meant  to 
do  ;  just  in  the  way,  that  it  was  meant  to  do  it.  And 
this,  by  a  threefold  influence  combined :  The  Home  • 
The  School  ;  The  Chuech. 

At  St.  Mary's  Hall,  the  cliildren  are  at  Home.    They 
are  watched  over,  by  a  father.     They  are  cared  for,  by  a 
mother.     And,  that,  most  wisely,  and  tenderly.     And, 
both  are    aided  and  sustained,  by  all  the  tenderness, 
and  carefulness,  which  beautify  the  love  of  elder  sisters. 
It  would   not  do,  to  boast.      All    human    provisions 
are  uncertain.      But,  in  the  general,  it  may  be  said, 
that,  in  all  that  constitutes  protection,  from  every  form 
of  danger,  to  person,  to  health,  to  purity — whatever, 
would  be    thought  of,  first,   or  last,  as   safety,  for  a 
girl — St.    Mary's    Hall  is  better    provided,  than    the 
houses,  from  which  its  inmates  come.     For  healthiness, 
it  has,  always,  been  a  marvel.     And,  in  a  recent  case  of 
extremest  illness,  the  most  intelligent  and  unequivocal 
testimony  is  borne,  that  no  home-care  could  have  met 
the  case,  as  well.     But,  after  all,  the  test  of  home,  is  the 
home-feeling.     And,  in  the  absence  of  home-sickness ;  in 
the  contented  cheerfulness,  which  fills  and  animates  the 
house ;  in  the  anxiety,  to  stay  here ;  and,  in  the  love, 
which,  after  eighteen  years,  and   more,  still,  yearns,  to- 
wards its  walls,  and  cherishes  its  memories,  as  traditions 
of  delight,  there  is  such  evidence,  as  none  can  question, 
that  St.  Mary's  Hall  is,  and  is  felt  to  be,  a  home.     Not, 
for  specific  acts  of  kindness,  or  of  carefulness,  alone ;  not, 


158         THE  home;  the  school;  the  chuech. 

for  its  habits  of  affection  and  devotion ;  not,  for  its 
uniformity,  and  constancy,  and  certainty,  in  every  thing : 
but,  tliat  pervading  and  prevailing  atmospliere,  which 
moulds  the  nature,  in  unconsciousness ;  and  tones  the 
temper,  and  the  feelings,  and  the  thoughts,  into  the  unity 
and  unreserve  of  love. 

At  St.  Mary's  Hall^  the  children  are  at  School.  The 
course  of  study  covers  all  the  ground  of  female  educa- 
tion. It  only  asks  more  time,  than  parents,  commonly, 
afford  for  it.  But,  the  outline  is  complete ;  and  the 
details  are  disposed  of,  with  a  just  discrimination. 
Elementary  studies  are  dealt  with,  and  insisted  on,  as 
fundamental.  Grammar,  Geography,  Arithmetic,  and 
History,  must  be  mastered.  For  the  rest.  Mathematical 
studies,  as  clearing,  settling,  satisfying,  the  mind,  and 
giving  selfreliance,  accuracy,  and  certainty,  to  the 
whole  woman,  are  most  faithfully,  and  most  success- 
fully, pursued.  The  female  mind  takes  well  to  Mathe- 
matics. And,  we  have  seen  the  moral  benefit  of  their 
wise  discipline,  among  our  elder  daughters,  in  the 
steadiness,  and  stableness,  and  settledness,  and  well 
proportionedness,  and  equipoise,  of  the  whole  character. 
But,  our  highest  aim,  the  grand  result,  to  which  all  this 
contributes,  is  to  enable  them,  having  thought  good 
thoughts,  to  utter  them,  in  the  very  best  vernacular. 
English  composition  is  my  own  department :  and  it  is 
heart- work,  with  us  ;  and  done,  as,  only,  heart- work  is. 
In  these  departments,  the  Mathematical  and  English, 
and  in  all  that  is  more  elementary,  the  examination,  just 
completed,  has  enabled  you  to  judge,  of  wLat  is  done, 


THE  home;  the  school;  the  church.         159 

and  how.  The  languages  of  Continental  Europe,  the 
French,  the  Italian,  the  Spanish,  and  the  German,*  are  as 
extensively  brought  in,  as  the  time,  in  each  particular 
case,  permits.  And,  tliey^  not  only,  but  the  Latin  lan- 
guage, relied  on,  as,  for  their  separate,  intrinsic,  value, 
so,  for  their  absolute  necessity,  to  the  time  mastery  of 
the  noblest  lansruao-e,  which  the  world  has  ever  listened 
to,  our  own  dear  mother  tongue.  Nor,  with  all  these 
solid  and  substantial  branches,  are  the  adornments  of  a 
woman  disregarded.  In  the  concert-room,  and  in  the 
picture-room,  there  are  results  of  taste  and  beauty,  to 
be  heard,  and  seen  ;  which  would  be  much,  if  they  were 
all,  that  is  accomplished  in  the  time :  and  are  truly 
wonderful,  when  the  short  time,  which  they  can  have, 
is  thought  of.  And,  yet  when  all  is  done,  it  is  not,  to 
attainments,  or  acquirements,  or  improvements,  as 
specially  regarded,  that  we  ascribe  the  value  of  our 
plan.  But,  to  its  influence,  as  a  well-organized  and 
energizing  system,  to  discipline  and  train  the  mind ;  and 
fit  the  future  woman,  for  her  duties  and  responsibilities, 
as  daughter,  sister,  wife,  and  mother :  and,  especially, 
for  that,  which  is  the  highest  work  of  men  or  women  ; 
which  every  man  and  woman,  whether  they  will  or  not, 
is  doing,  more  or  less ;  and,  which  Jesus  dignified  and 
glorified,  the  work  of  teaching. 

But^  what  ivere  a  Home,  what  were  a  School,  with- 
out the  Church  f  Blank  heathenism  !  The  sinful 
sensuality  of  Pompeii.  The  painted  cloud  banks  of  the 
Academy.    As,  in  that  graphic  picture  of  their  proudest, 

*  There  is  no  additional  charge,  for  any  thing. 


160         THE  home;  the  school;  the  chuech. 

whom  St.  Paul  preached  to,  at  Athens :  "  And,  when 
they  heard  of  the  resurrection  of  the  dead,  some 
mocked ;  and  others  said,  We  mil  hear  thee  again  of 
this  matter."  It  is  the  glory  of  our  nature,  that  it  was 
made,  in  God's  own  image.  It  was  its  curse,  to  lose 
that  image,  by  transgression.  It  is  its  blessing,  that  it 
is  restored,  to  penitential  faith,  in  Christ.  Hence,  the 
atoning  Cross.  Hence,  the  restoring  Church.  As,  at 
the  fii'st,  "  the  saved  "  were  "  added  to  the  Church,"  ^'" 
and,  so,  were  "  added  to  the  Lord,"  from  Whom,  their 
sins  had  parted  them;  so,  to  the  last,  it  must  be. 
Therefore,  St.  Mary's  Hall  is  in  the  Church ;  is  so  mucli 
of  the  Church.  And,  hence,  alone,  fi^om  God,  its  vital - 
ness  and  value.  But,  for  that,  I  could  ask,  for  it,  no 
confidence.  But,  for  that,  I  could  expect,  for  it,  no 
blessing.  Or,  only  such,  as  may  be  asked  for  any  farm, 
or  shop,  or  ship  ;  that  it  may  prosper,  in  this  world  : 
make  money ;  and,  then,  keep  it !  It  is  because  St. 
Mary's  Hall  is  founded,  on  the  E,ock,  Christ  Jesus,  that 
it  stands,  against  all  storms,  all  floods,  all  foes,  of  eartli, 
or  hell.  And,  it  is  because  St.  Mary's  Hall  is  brooded 
over,  by  the  wings  of  that  descending  Dove,  which 
settled  on  the  Saviour's  head,  that  the  dear  children 
here,  have  grown,  in  grace,  and  gone  on,  towards  per- 
fection ;  and  carried  to  so  many  homes,  the  blessings, 
which  they  gathered,  here  ;  and,  led  so  many  parents, 
to  the  Font,  or  to  the  Altar ;  and  sanctified  so  many 
hearths  :  and,  literally,  turned  "  the  hearts  of  the  fathers, 
to  the  children,  and  the  disobedient,  to  the  Avisdom  of 

*  Acts  ii.  4T  ;  v.  14. 


THE  home;  the  school;  the  chuech.         161 

the  justified."     The  teaching  of  the  Chiu'ch,  in  God's 
own  holy  word ;  the  ministry,  of  the  Church,  entrusted, 
as  His  stewards,  with  His  grace ;  the  prayers  of  the 
Church ;  the  sacraments  of  the  Church  ;  the  training  of 
the  Church ;  the  music  of  the  Angels,  in  the  Church  ; 
the  beauty  of  holiness,  in  the  Chui'ch  ;  the  very  atmos- 
phere of  Heaven  anticipated,  in  the  Church  :  these  are 
our  arms ;  these  are  our  agencies ;  these  are  our  influ- 
ences, from  God,  for  good ;  in  these,  is  our  hope ;  on 
these,  is  our  reliance ;  by  these,  is  our  triumph ;  through 
these,  is  our  victory,  in  that  one  Banner,  which  must, 
always,  conquer ;  and,  on  account  of  these,  our  claim,  to 
human  confidence,  and  our  certainty,  that  God  is  with  us, 
of  a  truth,  and  will  continue,  to  us.  His  blessing.     This 
was  our  forecast  reliance,  from  the  first.     This  has  been, 
year  after  year,  for  twenty  years,  the  accumulating  ex- 
perience of  every  day.     To  this,  the  letters  of  the  dear 
ones,  who  have  gone,  from  here,  for  eighteen  years,  bear 
testimony,  that    has  melted  my  whole  nature,  in  the 
deep  sense  of  my  unworthiness,  to  be  the  minister  of  so 
much    grace ;  and  filled  my  heart,  to  bursting,  with 
devoutest  gratitude,  to  God,  from  "Whom,  alone,  these 
blessings  are  derived.      And,  it  is,  in  this  spirit,  and 
with  this  conviction,  and  on  this  confidence,  that  our 
closing  act  is  a  religious  act :  and,  that,  as  yesterday'"' 
we  bade  these  darlings  of  our  heart  to  come,  and  be 
partakers,  with  us,  at  this  holy  Altar,  of  that  spiritual 
food,  which  nourishes  to  immortality ;  so,  to-day,  we  do 
not  let  them  go,  without  a  blessing :  commending  them, 

*  The  Feast  of  the  Annunciation. 
VOL.  IV. — 11 


162         THE  home;  the  school;  the  chuech. 

to  Him,  to  keep,  and  guide,  and  care  for,  Wlio  alone, 
can  lead  them  safely,  tlirougli  tlie  dangerous  paths  of 
life  ;  sustain  their  sinking  spirits,  in  the  hour  and  agony 
of  death ;  and  enable  us  to  stand  up  with  them,  at  the  last 
— redeemed,  through  His  dear  blood,  "Who  died  for  us ; 
and,  then,  renewed  and  sanctified,  by  the  divine  and 
Holy  Spirit,  Which  He  purchased  for  us — and  say,  with 
trembling,  but,  triumphant,  love  and  joy,  "  Behold  I, 
and  the  childi'en,  which  God  hath  given  me  !  " 

Beloved  ones,  the  parting  hour  has  come.  How 
shall  I  speak  the  words,  which  bid  you,  fi'om  my  side  ? 
How  shall  I  say,  to  you,  farewell  ?  Only,  in  that  trium- 
phant grace,  which  conquers,  even,  self  Only,  in  that 
true  love,  which  can  forget  its  own,  to  seek  another's 
good.  Go  then,  my  children,  to  your  homes.  Go ;  and  be 
comforts,  to  your  parents.  Go ;  and  be  blessings,  to  your 
neighbourhoods.  Go  ;  and  be  daughters  of  the  Church. 
Go  ;  and  be  women,  such  as  God  made  :  the  helpers,  the 
comforters,  the  ornaments,  the  blessings,  of  your  kind. 

"  I  saw  her,  upon  nearer  view, 
A  spirit,  yet  a  woman,  too  ! 
Her  household  motions,  light  and  free, 
And  steps  of  virgin  liberty  ; 
A  countenance  in  which  did  meet 
Sweet  records,  promises  as  sweet ; 
A  creature,  not  too  bright  or  good. 
For  human  nature's  daily  food  : 
For  transient  sorrows,  simple  wiles, 

Praise,  blame,  love,  kisses,  tears  and  smiles. 

***** 
The  reason  firm,  the  temperate  will, 
Endurance,  foresight,  strength,  and  skill ; 


THE  home;  the  school;  the  church.    163 

A  perfect  woman,  nobly  planned, 
To  warn,  to  comfort  and  command  : 
And,  yet,  a  spirit,  still,  and  bright, 
With  something  of  an  angel's  light."  * 

Beloved,  we  must  part.  You  take,  Avith  you,  my 
love,  my  prayers,  my  blessing.  Every  day,  your 
sweet  remembrance  shall  go  up,  witb.  my  best  loved,  to 
Him,  Who  bears  tbe  prayer.  Let  me  be  tbougbt  of, 
at  tbe  twiligbt  bour;  and,  mentioned,  sometimes,  in 
your  orisons.  You  bave  bad,  beloved  ones,  and  tbose 
like  you,  tbe  twenty  best  years  of  my  life.  Witb 
my  beart,  I  tbank  God,  Wbo  enabled  me  to  do  tbe 
service.  Notbing,  in  it,  tbat  is  not  overpaid,  by  tbe 
sweet  assurance  of  your  love.  Notbing,  tbat  could 
bave  been  in  it,  of  cost,  or  loss,  or  sacrifice,  or  deatb, 
tbat  were  not  welcome,  as  tbe  airs  of  Paradise,  for  tbe 
confidence  of  wbat  you,  and  sucb  as  you,  will  be.  And, 
for  myself,  I  ask  no  words,  upon  my  grave — ^tbe  only 
land,  tbat  I  can  ever  own — but  tbe  record,  tbat  it 
bolds  tbe  dust  of  bim,  wbom  God  employed,  to  found 
St.  Mary's  Hall.     My  cbildren,  may  God  bless  you  ! 

Wordsworth. 


XY. 
THE  FIFTEENTH  ADDRESS 

*  TO  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


THE   POLISHED   COKNEKS   OF   THE   TEMPLE. 

This  is  tlie  one  and  twentietli  birtli-day  of  St. 
Mary's  Hall.  It  seems  to  me,  impossible.  But  the 
other  day,  as  I  sat,  at  work,  in  my  study,  in  that  old 
Academy,  which  stood,  where  St.  Mary's  Church,  now, 
stands,  it  was  proposed  to  me,  to  buy  the  property, 
built,  as  a  school,  for  Friends,  to  be  a  girls'  school  of 
the  Church.  But  the  other  day,  I  set  my  hand  to  a 
pamphlet,  entitled  "Female  Education,  on  Christian 
Principles ; "  the  first  announcement  of  my  plan.  But 
the  other  day,  on  a  beautiful  May  morning,  these  doors 
were  opened,  to  a  little  band  of  timid  girls ;  who  are  now 
abroad  upon  the  land :  its  mothers,  and  its  grandmoth- 
ers ;  God  bless  them  !  And,  now,  scarce  a  city,  or  a 
town,  or  a  village,  or  a  hamlet,  in  which  St.  Mary's  Hall 
is  not  "a  household   word."     While,  each  successive 

*  March,  A.  D.  1858. 


THE   POLISHED    COENEES    OF   THE   TEMPLE.  165 

}^ear,  tlie  living  stream  of  women  lias  flowed  out ;  to 
beautify,  and  fertilize,  tlie  land.  For  these  exceeding 
blessings  of  His  Providence  and  Grace,  God's  holy  name 
be  praised !  That  He  may  still  continue  them ;  and, 
that  St.  Mary's  Hall,  through  generation  after  genera- 
tion, while  the  world  shall  stand,  may  be  a  name,  still, 
and  a  praise,  let  us  devoutly  ask  Him,  through  the 
merits  of  His  Son,  our  only  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

To-day,  the  one  and  twentieth  time,  the  wave  of 
womanhood  wells  out,  again,  upon  the  world.  To  bear 
on  it,  what  blessings,  or  what  curses !  For,  as  the 
women  are,  the  world  will  be.  Women,  like  Hannah, 
will  bear  sons,  like  Samuel.  Women,  like  Martha, 
and  her  sister  Mary,  will  make  any  house,  a  home,  for 
Christ.  Women,  like  Lydia,  will  be  mothers  of  the 
Church.  Women,  like  men,  are  children  of  the  Fall. 
They  bear,  in  them,  the  seeds  of  sin.  They  are  the 
children  of  God's  wrath.  To  be  His  children,  they 
must  be  born  again.  To  continue  His  children,  they 
must  daily  be  renewed.  It  is  what  St.  Paul  hath 
said,  "  Not,  by  works  of  righteousness,  which  we  have 
done,  but  according  to  His  mercy,  He  saved  us,  by  the 
washing  of  regeneration,  and  the  renewing  of  the  Holy 
Ghost."  It  is  upon  the  broad  basis  of  the  Gospel,  that 
St.  Mary's  Hall  is  founded.  It  is  through  these  trans- 
forming influences,  that  the  dear  children,  who  come 
here,  are  sought  to  be  built  up,  "  as  living  stones."  It 
is  by  faithful  preaching  of  the  word  of  God,  and  the 
faithful  ministration  of  His  mysteries,  that  we  strive, 
day  after  day,  not  mthout  constant  prayers,  to  fit  them 


166  THE   POLISHED    COENERS    OF   THE   TEMPLE. 

in,  as  "  polished  comers  of  the  Temple."  "We  strive  to 
build  them,  into  the  Temple,  as  its  corners ;  and,  they, 
polished. 

We  strive  to  build  them  into  the  Tem])le.  Our  doors 
are  thrown  wide  open.  We  welcome  all,  who  come. 
We  ask  no  questions,  of  the  Christian  name,  by  which 
they  have  been  called.  We  gather  in,  of  every  sort, 
from  every  land.  Daily,  the  Church's  prayers  are 
offered.  Daily,  the  word  of  God,  is  read.  Contiaually, 
the  Font  is  filled  with  water.  On  every  Lord's  day, 
the  Holy  Table  offers  its  immortal  food.  We  are  one 
family,  in  Christ.  The  daughters  of  the  Church  feed, 
with  us,  at  the  banquet  of  that  heavenly  food.  One, 
and  another,  feels  the  sacred  glow  of  the  Redeemer's 
love.  One,  and  another,  comes  to  us,  to  hear  of  Christ. 
One,  and  another,  asks  to  be  instructed,  in  the  knowl- 
edge of  salvation.  One,  and  another,  bends  beside  the 
Font,  to  owm  the  Saviour ;  and  to  take  His  Cross.  One, 
and  another,  kneels  before  the  sacred  rail,  to  ask  the 
gift  of  the  Divine  and  Holy  Spirit,  in  "  the  laying  on  of 
hands."  One,  and  another,  comes,  in  deep  humility,  to 
ask  the  crumbs,  which  fall,  from  His  full  board.  With- 
in a  year,  twenty  have  owned  the  gospel  covenant,  in 
holy  baptism.  Within  a  year,  fifty  have  been  confirmed : 
of  whom,  not  less  than  forty  are  communicants.  The 
present  number  of  communicants,  who  have  been  trained 
and  nurtured,  here,  is  seventy.  Till  one  feels,  as  they  ap- 
proach, to  be  partakers  of  that  heavenly  feast,  the 
l^eauty  of  the  Prophet's  words  :  "  Who  are  these,  that 
fly,  as  a  cloud ;  and  as  doves,  to  their  A^vindows  ? "    And, 


THE   POLISHED    COENEKS    OF   THE   TEMPLE.  167 

thus,  they  are  built  in,  tlirougli  faith,  which  works  by 
love ;  as  living  stones :  while,  "  all  the  building,  fitly 
fi'amed  together,  groweth  unto  a  holy  temple,  in  the 
Lord." 

But  we  would  huild  them  in^  as  "  corner  stones.'''' 
The  Psalmist,  so,  describes  them :  "  that  our  daughters 
may  be  as  the  corner  stones."  Women,  are  not  for 
ornament,  alone  ;  or  chiefly.  They  are,  for  use.  What 
were  our  homes,  without  them !  What  a  desolate  thing, 
a  house,  without  its  mistress  !  What  a  deserted  thine,  a 
family,  without  a  mother !  What  a  loneliness,  our  life 
were,  without  sisters,  daughters,  grand-daughters !  They 
are  the  corner-stones  of  human  society.  They  should 
be  corner-stones,  in  the  Church.  Who  were  the  Sav- 
iour's ministers  and  comforters,  on  earth?  "The  holy 
women."  Who  were  the  earliest,  at  His  grave,  with 
the  sweet  spices,  to  anoint  His  body?  "The  holy 
women."  Who  are  first  named  in  the  sad  company, 
which  gathered,  in  that  upper  room,  after  the  Ascension  ? 
"  The  holy  women."  Whom  does  St.  Paul  set  foremost, 
as  his  helpers,  in  the  Gospel  ?  "  The  holy  women." 
What  were  the  Church  now,  humanly  regarded,  but  for 
"  the  holy  women  ? "  Whom  does  the  Missionary  find 
readiest,  to  welcome,  and  to  cheer  him,  in  his  wandering 
ministry  ?  "  The  holy  women."  Who,  under  God,  are 
the  life  and  soul  of  our  foreign  enterprises,  for  Christ, 
in  Greece,  in  China,*  and  in  Africa?  "The  holy 
women."  Whom  do  we  count  on,  as  certain  worshippers, 
at  all  our  daily  services  ?     "  The  holy  women."     Who 

*  One  of  them,  a  dear  daughter  of  St.  Mary's  Hall. 


168  THE   POLISHED    CORKEES    OF   THE   TEMPLE, 

are  the  readiest,  in  winter's  cold,  or  summer's  heat,  to 
seek  the  poor,  the  sick,  the  sad,  to  comfort  and  relieve 
them  ?  "  The  holy  women."  Who  are  most  willing 
to  deny  themselves,  and  toil,  and  pray,  to  help  us,  as 
we  feed  the  lambs  of  Christ  ?  "  The  holy  women." 
These  are  the  corner  stones,  of  which  we  speak.  To 
have  such  women,  is  our  object,  here.  Not  women,  to 
display  fine  dresses,  or  rich  jewellery  !  Not  women,  to 
be  rolled  about,  in  easy  carriages,  from  shop  to  shop, 
or  theatre  to  theatre  !  Not  women,  to  loll,  listlessly, 
upon  luxurious  sofas,  with  the  newest  novel !  But, 
working  women,  caring  women,  loving  women  :  such  as 
Solomon  praised ;  who  look  well  to  the  ways  of  their 
household,  and  eat  not  the  bread  of  idleness.  "Women : 
such  as  St.  Paul  commends :  "  well  reported  of  for  good 
works ;  who  have  brought  up  children ;  who  have 
lodged  strangers  ;  who  have  washed  the  feet  of  saints ; 
who  have  relieved  the  afflicted ;  who  have  diligently 
followed  every  good  work."  Women,  such  as  St.  Peter 
paints ;  whose  adorning  is  ''  not  that  outward  adorning, 
of  plaiting  the  hair,  and  of  wearing  of  gold,  or  of  putting 
on  of  apparel ;  but  the  hidden  man  of  the  heart,  in 
that  which  is  not  corruptible,  even  the  ornament  of  a 
meek  and  quiet  spirit ;  which  is,  in  the  sight  of  God,  of 
great  price."  These  were  the  Sarahs,  the  Rachels,  the 
Rebeccas,  the  Miriams,  the  Ruths,  the  Marys,  the 
Lydias,  the  Phebes,  the  Priscillas,  of  the  Bible.  These, 
as  women  professing  godliness,  and  practising  what 
they  profess,  are  the  corner  stones,  which  Ave  endeavour 
to  build  into  the  Temple.     Of  them,  thank  God,  a  mul- 


THE   POLISHED    COENEES    OF   THE   TEMPLE.  169 

titude  are,  now,  in  every  quarter  of  the  land ;  the 
human  strength  and  firmness  of  the  Chm^ch :  and,  to 
them,  we  venture  to  ascribe  the  eulogy  of  Israel's 
wisest  king,  "  many  daughters  have  done  virtuously  ;  " 
but  ye  excel  them  all. 

Biit^  our  cornel'  stones,  toe  would  liave polished.  In 
David's  phrase,  "  the  polished  corners  of  the  Temple." 
Not  the  polish,  which  rubs  off.  Not  the  polish,  which 
conceals  a  base  material.  Not  the  polish,  which  eats 
into,  and  corrodes,  the  substance.  That,  only,  can 
receive  a  polish,  which,  itself,  is  real.  We  burnish 
gold ;  not  lead.  We  polish  marble ;  and  not  sand  stone. 
What,  but  the  diamond,  is  the  most  solid  of  all  sub- 
stances !  What,  but  the  Ko-hi-noor,  that  could  light 
up  a  darkened  room  !  Therefore,  we  teach  the  children, 
solidly.  We  strengthen  and  compact  the  texture  of  their 
minds.  We  teach  them  history.  We  teach  them 
grammar.  We  teach  them  languages.  We  teach  them 
mathematics.  More  than  all,  we  teach  them  the  truth 
of  God  ;  and  train  them,  in  the  order,  and  the  service, 
of  His  Church.  Upon  these  live  realities,  the  polish, 
surely,  takes.  It  does  but  bring  out,  what  they  are. 
It  does  but  tell  the  truth,  that  lies  within.  It  will 
make  them  gracious,  as  well  as  graceful.  It  will  be 
theii'  armour,  as^well  as,  their  ornament.  Its  clear 
shining  will  dispel  the  darkness,  and  its  works.  Its 
clear  shining  will  drive  off  the  devil,  and  all  devilish 
men.  Its  clear  shining  will  win  Angels,  to  them ;  for 
their  succom*.    Its  clear  shining,  will  be  bright,  forever ; 


170     THE  POLISHED  COENEES  OF  THE  TEMPLE. 

in  tie  mediatorial  crown  of  Him,  Who  bought  them 
with  His  blood- 
Neighbours  and  friends,  such  is  the  simple  story  of 
our  efforts,  and  our  hopes.  And,  these — we  say,  with 
humble  thankfulness  to  God — these  are  such  fruits  of 
them,  as  over-pay  them  all.  For  such  as  these,  we  live. 
For  such  as  these,  we  toil.  For  such  as  these,  we 
watch.  For  such  as  these,  we  pray.  Be  these,  and 
such  as  these,  our  latest  memories,  in  death.  Be  these, 
and  such  as  these,  the  sharers,  with  us,  of  the  bliss  of 
heaven.  We  ask  it,  for  His  sake.  Whose  precious  lambs 
they  are.  We  ask  it,  for  His  sake.  Who  loved  us,  and 
washed  us  with  His  blood. 

Beloved  daughters  of  my  house  and  heart,  this  is 
our  parting  day  :  and  it  is  no  "  sweet  soitow."  It  is  a 
parting,  that  "v^^ings  hearts.  It  is  a  parting,  that  brings 
tears.  Thank  God,  that,  through  our  tears,  we  can 
look  up,  to  Heaven ;  and,  by  faith,  behold  that  happy 
home,  where,  if  we  follow  faithfrilly,  the  Lamb,  we  shall 
all  meet,  at  last,  to  part  no  more.  Beloved  daughters, 
as  you  stand,  before  me,  my  heart  supplies  the  forms  of 
fou]',  like  you,  who  hoped  to  have  stood,  with  you. 
Alice  Van  Valkenburgh,  Mary  Nolen,  Catharine  Bark- 
alow,  and  Amelia  Clarke,  are  with  the  silent  dead. 
Our  hearts  will  twine  some  cypress,^with  the  laurel. 
Our  tears  shall  green  the  sod,  that  wi'aps  their  graves. 
Dear  children  !  They  "  were  pleasant  and  lovely,  in 
their  lives."  In  their  deaths,  they  were  not  long  di- 
vided. Beloved  daughters,  there  are  graves  prepared, 
for  you.     One  and  another  will  open,  for  you,  on  your 


THE   POLISHED    COENERS    OF   THE   TEMPLE.  171 

way  of  life.  One  and  another  of  you  will  lie  cIo-smi,  in 
tliem ;  to  be  seen  here,  no  more.  Let  the  thought 
chastise  the  overweening  eagerness  of  youth.  Let  it 
mingle  its  mementoes,  with  the  songs  of  joy,  that  cheer 
the  day.  Let  it  rise  up,  in  hours,  which  tempt  you, 
with  too  much  of  this  world's  cheating  charms  ;  to  tell 
you  of  another  and  a  better.  Cling  to  that  Cross, 
which  you  have  all  embraced.  Nestle  yourselves,  ever, 
beneath  the  brooding  wings  of  that  celestial  Dove ; 
Which,  once,  descended  on  your  heads.  Feed,  in  true 
penitential  faith,  upon  that  "  Bread,  which  cometh  down 
from  heaven ;  "Which  is  the  life  of  the  world."  And 
strive,  through  grace,  till  you  shall  win,  through  mercy, 
the  crown  of  everlasting  life.  Only  the  Cross  could 
purchase  it.     Only  the  Dove  can  make  you  fit  for  it. 


XYI. 
THE  SIXTEENTH  ADDRESS 

*  TO  THE  GRADUATING  CLASS  AT  ST.  MARY'S  HALL. 


THE   SWABM. 


Again",  tlie  old  liive  swarms.  There  is  a  flush  of  life, 
upon  the  grass.  There  is  a  scent  of  spring,  upon  the 
air.  The  birds  are  twittering,  back,  to  their  old  nests. 
The  maple  flings  its  crimson  banner,  to  the  sky.  The 
willow  blushes,  into  green.  The  life  pulse  can  be 
stilled,  no  longer.  The  life-glow  can,  no  longer,  be  re- 
pressed. There  is  a  restless  heaving  of  the  mass. 
There  is  a  hum.  There  is  a  flutter.  There  is  a  start. 
The  old  hive  swanns,  again.  And,  they  are  off.  Off, 
to  the  Northern  hills.  Oft',  to  the  Western  prairies.  Off, 
to  the  sweet  savannas  of  the  South.  Oft',  to  sip 
sweetness,  from  the  flowers.  Off,  to  hoard  sweetness, 
for  their  homes.  Off,  to  return  no  more  ! — It  is  the  two 
and  twentieth  annual  swarm.  And  I  stand  here :  to 
follow  them,  while  eye  can  reach ;  to  fold  their  precious 
memories,  in  my  heart  of  love ;  to  pursue  them,  with 
my  blessing ;  and  to  shield  them,  with  my  prayers. 
Wherever,  they  may  wing  their  wandering  way,  God 

*  March,  A.  D.  1859. 


THE   SWAEM.  173 

guide  them ;  keep  tliem ;  comfoii;  tliem  !     Poor  things ! 
They  need  it,  all ! 

That  were  a  strange  map,  which  traced,  with  indi- 
vidual lines,  these  annual  swarms,  of  two  and  twenty 
years.  To  China.  To  South  America.  To  Great  Brit- 
ain. To  the  islands  of  the  sea.  To  every  state  and 
territory  of  our  own  vast  empire.  To  the  forests  of 
Maine.  To  the  rice-fields  of  Georgia.  To  the  sugar- 
plantations  of  Mississippi.  To  so  many  happy  homes. 
To  so  many  peaceful  Parsonages.  To  so  many  hearths 
of  contentment.  To  so  many  hearts  of  love.  Alas, 
that  I  must  add,  to  so  many  early  graves ;  just  green- 
ing, with  the  Spring  !  And  that  were  a  still  stranger 
map,  which  sketched,  as  God  looks  down,  upon  them 
all,  the  pathways  of  that  inner  life  ;  which  each  is  trav- 
elling on,  toward  that  unseen  world,  which  hangs 
about  us,  like  the  sky ;  which,  in  one  moment,  may 
close  in  upon  our  souls ;  whose  issues  are  unchanging 
and  eternal ;  as  the  God,  who  orders  them,  in  justice  and 
in  mercy. 

"  Beyond  this  vale  of  tears, 
There  is  a  life  above ; 
Unmeasured,  by  the  flight  of  years : 
And  all  that  life  is  love. 

"  There  is  a  death,  whose  pang 
Outlasts  the  fleeting  breath  : 
Oh,  what  eternal  horrors  hang 
Around  the  second  death  ! 

"  Lord  God  of  truth  and  grace, 
Teach  us  that  death  to  shun  ; 
Lest  we  be  driven  from  Thy  face, 
For  evermore,  undone." 


174  THE   SWAEM. 

My  children,  upon  this  devious  and  eventful  pil- 
grimage, you  are  to  enter,  now ;  unshielded,  by  the  sa- 
cred home,  which  has,  so  long,  been  your  shelter.  From 
its  privacy,  its  peacefulness,  its  purity,  its  piety ;  the 
sound  of  its  continual  scriptures,  the  music  of  its  con- 
tinual songs,  the  fervour  of  its  continual  supplications, 
the  fragrance  of  its  continual  sacraments :  you  are  to  go 
out  into  a  world,  which  cares,  but  little,  for  these  things. 
I  thank  God,  for  the  inestimable  confidence,  that  their 
roots  have  taken,  in  your  hearts.  I  look,  to  Him,  to 
water,  with  His  grace,  these  plantings  of  His  word.  I 
beseech  Him,  mercifully,  to  grant,  that  they  may  live, 
and  grow,  in  you  :  nurturing  your  souls,  with  spiritual 
and  immortal  food  ;  sheltering  your  young  heads,  with 
their  broad,  cool,  shadow,  against  the  hot  blasts  of  temp- 
tation ;  and  cheering  you  on,  with  their  refreshing  fra- 
grance, through  whatever  He  may  order,  for  your  chas- 
tening, as  His  children,  until  they  bring  you,  where  the 
palms  of  Paradise  spring  up,  forever  green,  by  the  pure 
river  of  the  water  of  life.  Remember,  my  beloved,  you 
have  not  these  inestimable  blessings,  for  yourselves, 
alone.  You  hold  them,  as  a  sacred  trust,  for  your 
homes,  for  the  Church,  for  your  country,  and  for  your 
kind.  "The  times  are  out  of  joint."  Corruption  stalks 
in  our  high  places.  Licentiousness  has,  well  nigh,  lost  its 
shame.  Infidelity  is  bold  and  brazen-faced.  The  wave 
of  barbarism  is  rolling  back,  upon  us.  For  these  things, 
your  own  sex  is  greatly  answerable.  Women  are  not 
true,  to  themselves.  They  wink  at  vice.  They  make  a 
compromise  mth  worldliness.     They  tolerate  irreligion. 


THE   SWAEM.  1*75 

And  they  are  tlie  victims  of  tlieir  own  unfaitlifalness. 
Tile  stronger  sex  looks  up,  in  best  things,  to  the  weaker. 
They  have,  all,  had  mothers.  They  have,  all,  had  sis- 
ters. They  own  them,  in  the  sex,  to  which,  they  owe 
them.  And,  if  women  were  but  true,  to  God ;  true,  to 
their  position ;  true,  to  themselves :  they  would  have 
strength,  from  Him,  to  hold  the  world  in  check.  No 
woman  ever  fell,  but  by  her  own  consent.  As,  at  the 
first,  the  woman  is  the  tempter.  There  is  no  man,  that 
has  not  passed  into  the  brute,  to  do  as  tigers  do,  that 
can  resist  the  matchless  majesty  of  a  resolved  woman. 
And,  stronger  than  all  law,  stronger  than  any  thing,  but 
God,  when  it  is  strong,  in  His  strength,  would  be  the 
power  of  woman,  to  put  down  rudeness,  and  to  lay  the 
bridle,  upon  license.  But,  the  age  is  self-indulgent. 
And,  self-indulgence  grows  by  what  it  feeds  on.  Wo- 
men are  occupied  by  fashion.  Women  are  slaves,  to 
dress.  Women  are  willing  to  be  flattered.  Women 
are  careless  of  their  companionship.  Women  are  un- 
scrupulous, in  their  amusements.  Young  women  set  up 
for  themselves.  They  look  upon  their  parents,  as  old- 
fashioned.  They  are  impatient  of  domestic  restraints. 
They  are  averse  to  domestic  occupations.  They  vote 
their  home,  a  bore.  They  congregate  away  from  its 
control.  They  indulge  in  unseasonable  hours.  They 
meet  the  other  sex,  more  than  halfway.  They  make 
themselves  debtors,  for  their  escort,  to  places  of  resort. 
They  permit  the  approaches  of  familiarities.  They 
tempt  the  hidden  devil  of  their  nature.  They  forget 
their  Bibles,     They  neglect  their  Prayer  Books.     They 


176  THE   SWAEM. 

are  women  of  fasliion.  Tliey  are  women  of  tlie  world. 
What  else  tliey  are,  is,  rather,  shaped  by  opportunity, 
than  by  themselves.  In  this  way,  home  is  stripped  of 
its  sanctity.  In  this  way,  the  female  atmosphere  loses 
its  freshness,  and  its  fragrance.  The  woman  is,  no  lon- 
ger, what  she  was  made  to  be,  "  a  help,  meet  "  for  the 
man.  And  man  ceases  to  be,  what  God  designed  him 
for ;  her  partner,  her  prop,  and  her  protector. 

I  am  well  persuaded,  by  the  report,  which  comes, 
to  me,  from  every  quarter  of  the  land,  that  the  women, 
who  have  gone  out,  from  before  this  altar — counted, 
now,  by  thousands — are,  for  the  most  part,  women  of 
another  sort.  I  hear  of  them,  as  faithful  wives.  I  hear 
of  them,  as  devoted  mothers.  I  hear  of  them,  as  loving 
sisters.  I  hear  of  them,  as  obedient  daughters.  They 
are  centres  of  good  influence,  in  society.  They  are  stays 
and  ornaments  of  the  Church.  It  may  be  said,  of  them : 
"  Many  daughters  have  done  \'irtuously ;  but,  these 
excel  them  all !  "  To  join  this  hopeful  company,  be- 
loved ones,  you  are  to  go  out,  now.  You  go,  with  the 
instructions,  by  which  their  minds  were  moulded.  You 
go,  with  the  influences,  which  God  has  sanctified,  in  the 
transformation  of  their  hearts. .  You  go,  with  the 
prayers,  which  have  won  down,  from  heaven,  for  them, 
the  consolations  of  the  Comforter.  You  go,  with  the 
blessing,  which  has  commended  them,  to  the  care  and 
keeping  of  the  Holy  One.  "  Be  strong,  in  the  Lord," 
dear  children :  "  and  in  the  power  of  His  might."  Keep 
your  Bibles,  ever,  in  your  hearts.  Have  your  Prayer 
Books,  ever,  in  your  hands.     Be  true,  to  yourselves. 


THE   SWARM.  177 

Be  true,  to  your  homes.  Be  true,  to  your  Churcli.  Be 
true,  to  your  God.  Follow  after  her,  who  sat  down,  at 
Jesus'  feet,  and  heard  His  word.  Follow  after  them, 
who  left  His  Cross,  the  last,  and  found  His  grave,  the 
first.  Follow  after  her,  whose  sacred  legend  gleams 
upon  you,  now ;  it  may  be,  for  the  last  time  :  "  behold 
the  handmaid  of  the  Lord  !  "  Remember,  always,  that 
you  are  women.  Remember,  always,  to  be  "  holy  wo- 
men." Keep  your  hands,  ever,  on  the  Cross.  Fix 
your  eyes,  ever,  on  the  crown.  Lambs  of  the  Lamb,  in 
meekness,  and  gentleness,  and  lovingness  ;  be  dovelings 
of  THE  Dove,  in  peace,  and  purity,  and  piety.  Dear 
daughters  of  my  heart,  God  bless  you  ! 


VOL.  IV. 12 


SERMON  I. 

*THE   CHCECH   THE   TEACHER   OF   CHEIST'S 
LITTLE  CHILDREE". 

St.  John  xxi.  15. — Jesus  saith  to  Simon  Peter,  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest 
thou  Me  more  than  these  ?  He  saith  unto  him,  Yea,  Lord  ;  Thou  knowest  that  I 
love  Thee.     He  saith  unto  him,  Feed  my  lambs. 

The  Son  of  God  had  stooped  from  lieaven  to  earth. 
He  had  made  Himself  of  no  reputation,  and  taken  npon 
Him  the  form  of  a  servant.  He  had  given  His  hands 
and  His  feet  to  be  pierced  through  with  nails ;  and, 
from  His  wounded  side,  had  poured  His  heart's  blood 
out,  upon  the  gi'ound.  But,  though  He  had  made  Him- 
self obedient  unto  death,  and  found  the  grave,  of  which 
Isaiah  spake,  in  the  new  tomb  of  Joseph,  the  grave  and 
death  could  not  confine  Him  long.  Upon  the  day, 
which  He  himself  appointed,  He  brake  its  bands ;  and, 
in  His  triumph  over  death,  the  curse  of  sin,  attested 
His  dominion  over  sin,  the  sting  of  death.  One 
would  have  thought,  that  now.  His  work  was  done. 
One  would  have  thought,  that  now,  love's  measure 
was  filled  up.  One  would  have  thought,  that,  from 
the  Cross,  He  would  go  instant  to  the  right  hand  of 

*  These  two  addresses  are  printed  as  fair  exponents  of  my  Father's  educational 
plans.  This  was  delivered  on  the  first  Sunday  after  the  opening  of  Burlington 
College  ;  November,  A,  D.  1847. 


THE  CHUKCH  THE  TEACHEE,  ETC.         179 

tlie  tlirone.  But  no,  it  is  not  so.  He  lingers  still  on 
earth.  He  sojourns  still  with  men.  He  still  goes  in  and 
out  with  the  eleven.  Are  they  assembled  at  their  wor- 
ship in  that  upper  room  ?  Jesus  is  in  the  midst  of 
them.  Do  they  pursue  their  toilsome  occupation  on  the 
sea  ?  Jesus  is  near  them,  on  the  shore.  Do  they  re- 
fresh themselves  with  the  hard  earnings  of  their  toil  ? 
Jesus  is  by  their  frugal  board.  What  can  it  be  that 
keej)s  the  Saviour  still  from  heaven  ?  Why  does  He 
yet  forego  the  glory  which  the  Father  hath  prepared,  in 
overpayment  of  the  shame  ?  Why  is  He  still  uj)on  the 
earth,  from  which  His  blood  is  scarcely  dried ;  and  still 
with  them,  who  left  Him,  in  His  hour  of  bitter  agony, 
to  bleed  and  die  alone  ?  Surely,  some  unaccomplished 
purpose  presses  on  His  heart.  Surely,  some  latest 
charge  of  love  is  lingering  on  His  lip.  So,  when  He 
hung  upon  the  Cross,  He  could  not  die,  till  He  had  said 
to  the  disciple  whom  He  loved,  "  Behold  thy  mother  !  " 
Now,  when  His  work  is  fully  done,  and  He  has  only  to 
ascend,  and  enter  on  His  rest,  He  cannot  go,  till  He  has 
put  in  trust,  affection's  parting  and  most  painful  proof, 
the  23recious  flock,  which  He  had  purchased  with  His 
blood.  It  was  by  the  lake-side  of  Gennesaret,  the 
scene  so  often  of  His  triumphs  and  His  trials.  It  was 
in  the  midst  of  them  who  had  been  with  Him,  in  His 
weakness,  and  in  His  power.  It  was  now  the  third 
time  that  He  had  shoA\Ti  Himself  to  them,  since  He  was 
risen  from  the  dead.  He  addresses  Himself,  to  him  who 
had  ever  been  foremost  in  his  protestations  of  devotion 
to  His  service,  and  to  all  the  rest,  through  him.     By  a 


180  THE  CHUECH  THE  TEACHER 

single  toucli  of  nature,  He  reminds  liini  of  all  that  lie 
liad  said,  of  self  devotion  and  self  sacrifice  for  Him : 
"  Lord,  I  will  lav  down  my  life  for  Thy  sake  ; "  "I  am 
ready  to  go  with  Thee  to  prison  and  to  death ; " 
"  Though  all  men  should  be  offended  because  of  Thee, 
yet  will  I  never  be  offended  !  "  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas, 
lovest  thou  Me."  Is  it  true  that  thou  lovest  Me,  more 
than  these  ?  "  Feed  my  laivlbs  !  "  Beautiful  and  touch- 
ing proof  of  His  dear  love,  who  died  for  all,  for  little 
childi'en  !  So,  when  His  disciples  would  have  kept  the 
mothers  from  them,  that  were  thronging  to  Him,  for 
His  blessing  on  their  children,  He  was  much  disj)leased, 
and  said,  "  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  Me, 
and  forbid  them  not ;  for  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of 
God."  So,  when  His  disciples  were  disputing,  which 
of  them  should  be  the  greatest,  "  He  took  a  little  child, 
and  set  him  in  the  midst  of  them,"  and  made  him  their 
pattern.  And,  so,  the  latest  words  of  love  that  are  on 
record,  when  He  sat  vdth  His  Apostles,  in  the  unre- 
serve of  friendship's  most  familiar  horn*,  were  His  com- 
mission to  St.  Peter,  and,  with  him,  to  all  the  Apostles, 
and  through  them,  to  the  whole  Church,  to  take  good 
care  of  little  children :  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest 
thou  Me  more  than  these  ? "     Prove  it  then  by  this, 

"  FEED  MY  LAMBS  !  " 

Of  all  the  fio-ures  in  which  Jesus  was  accustomed  to 
set  forth  His  office  for  mankind,  there  is  none  so  fre- 
quently employed,  or  with  such  evident  delight,  as  that 
of  shejplierd.  In  like  manner,  when  their  office,  whom 
He  left  to  gather  from  the  world  a  people  for  His  name, 


OF  Christ's  little  cHiLDEEisr.  181 

and  to  prej^are  tliem  for  Himself,  is  spoken  of  in  Scrip- 
ture, its  most  frecpient  and  familiar  aspect  is  tlie  pas- 
toral office.  So  does  Isaiah,  long  before  His  coming, 
speak  of  Him :  "  He  skall  feed  His  flock  like  a  sliep- 
lierd,  He  shall  gather  the  lambs  with  His  arm,  and 
carry  tkem  in  His  bosom,  and  skall  gently  lead  those 
that  are  witk  young."  And  so,  St.  Peter,  when  tke 
time  is  nearly  come,  wken  lie  must  leave  to  other  hands, 
the  trust  with  wliick  his  Master  had  returned  his  love, 
exhorts  the  elders,  as  himself  an  elder ;  and  falls  in- 
stinctively upon  His  parting  theme  :  "  feed  the  flock  of 
God,  which  is  among  you,  taking  the  oversight  thereof, 
not  by  constraint,  but  "willingly,  not  for  filthy  lucre,  but 
of  a  ready  mind ;  neither  as  being  lords  over  God's  her- 
itage, but  being  ensamples  to  the  flock.  And,  when 
the  chief  Shepherd  shall  appear,  ye  shall  receive  a 
crowTi  of  glory  that  fadeth  not  away."  The  injunction 
to  St.  Peter,  "  Feed  my  lambs,"  (extended  afterwards 
into  the  fuller  and  more  comprehensive  exhortation, 
"  Feed  My  sheep,")  was  the  Commission  for  the  Pastoral 
Office ;  just  as  the  words  with  which  the  Saviour  left 
the  Apostles,  on  the  Mount  of  the  Ascension,  "  Go  ye, 
therefore,  and  make  disciples  of  all  nations,"  were  the 
Missionary  Commission.  Its  lesson  to  us,  of  special 
fitness  for  our  purposes  to-day,  is  of  a  threefold  applica- 
tion : 

i.  The  Sa^^our's  little  children  must  be  taught ; 
ii.  The  Church  must  do  it ; 
iii.  It  is  the  test  of  her  true  love  for  Him. 


182  THE  CHUECH  THE  TEACHER 

"  O  Almiglity  God,  who,  by  Thy  Son  Jesus  Christ, 
didst  give  to  Thy  Apostle,  St.  Peter,  many  excellent 
gifts,  and  commandedst  him  earnestly  to  feed  Thy  flock  ; 
make,  we  beseech  Thee,  all  bishops  and  pastors,  dili- 
gently to  preach  Thy  Holy  Word,  and  the  people  obe- 
diently to  follow  the  same,  that  they  may  receive  the 
cro^vn  of  everlasting  glory,  through  Jesus  Chiist  our 
Lord." 

i.  The  Saviour''s  little  children  must  he  taught. 
That  children  must  be  taught  to  read  and  write,  that 
they  must  learn  grammar  and  geography  and  arithme- 
tic, few,  that  have  got  beyond  the  savage  state,  mil 
need  to  be  informed.  Few  in  our  age  and  country  that 
are  content  with  these  attainments  for  their  children. 
It  is  indeed  a  touching  thought  what  efforts,  and  what 
self-denial,  parents  often  make,  and  undergo,  for  the  in- 
struction of  their  children.  How  many  a  father  hastes  to 
rise  up  early,  and  late  takes  rest,  and  eats  the  bread  of 
carefulness,  that  he  may  purchase,  for  his  daughters,  the 
means  of  those  accomplishments^  of  body  and  of  mind, 
which  may  prej)are  them  for  acceptance  mth  the  world  ! 
And  how  often  has  the  widowed  mother  worn  her  eyes 
with  'watching,  and  her  hands  with  work,  that  she 
might  keep  her  only  son  at  school,  and  fit  him  for  a 
higher  station  than  was  ever  dreamed  of  by  his  fore- 
fathers !  No  one  supposes,  for  one  moment,  that  these 
things  come  by  nature.  No  one,  who  thinks  them  val- 
uable, thinks  of  postponing  their  acquirement,  till  the 
child  shall  seek  them  for  himself  When  he  can  scarcely 
walk,  his  limbs  are  tortured  into  postures,  that  his  ac- 


OF  cheist's  little  childeen.  183 

tion  may  be  graceful.  Wlien  lie  can  scarcely  talk,  he 
is  set  to  learning  languages,  that  Ms  pronunciation  may 
be  coiTect.  His  eye  is  trained  to  exactness  in  propor- 
tions. His  ear  is  tuned  to  harmony  of  sounds.  His 
memory  is  exercised.  His  taste  is  cultivated.  His 
powers  of  reasoning  are  exerted.  His  imagination  is 
invigorated.  Nothing  is  left  to  the  slow  processes  of 
time.  Nothing  is  trusted  to  his  free  choice.  His  will 
is,  as  it  were,  forestalled.  And  the  hope  is,  that,  before 
he  attains  to  the  period  for  its  exercise,  habit  will  have 
hardened  into  nature,  and  the  character  have  taken  its 
indelible  impression.  And  yet  these  same  persons  neg- 
lect entirely  the  religious  education  of  their  children. 
They  act  as  if  the  heart  could  not  go  wrong.  It  is 
their  pride  to  have  them  free  from  prejudice.  Their 
souls,  they  say,  shall  be  white  paper,  until  they  write 
their  creed  on  it  themselves.  Theology  is  too  abstruse 
for  youthful  minds.  They  have  no  notion  that  their 
children  should  be  gloomy.  Let  them  enjoy  life,  while 
they  can.  Sickness  and  sorrow  will  come  soon  enough ; 
and  then  these  things  will  be  of  course.  Besides,  what 
right  has  one  man  to  determine  in  this  question  for 
another  ?*  Is  not  the  soul  fi-ee  ?  Should  not  the  heart 
make  its  own  selection  ?  Is  it  not  all  between  the  man 
himself,  and  God  I     As  if  to  be  without  religion  were 

*  "  Thelwall  thought  it  very  unfair  to  influence  a  child's  mind,  by  inculcating 
any  opinions,  before  it  should  have  come  to  years  of  discretion,  and  be  able  to 
choose  for  itself.  I  showed  him  my  garden,  and  told  him  it  was  my  botanical 
garden.  'How  so?'  said  be,  'it  is  covered  with  weeds.' — 'Oh,'  I  replied,  '■that 
is  only  because  it  has  not  yet  come  to  its  age  of  discretion  and  choice.  The 
weeds,  you  see,  have  taken  the  liberty  to  grow ;  and  I  thought  it  unfair  in  me  to 
prejudice  the  soil  towards  roses  and  strawberries.' " — Coleridge's  Table  Talk,  i.  191. 


184  THE  CHUKCH  THE  TEACHER 

not  just  as  inucli  a  settling  of  tlie  question,  as  if  tlie 
choice  were  fally  made ;  just  as  black,  whicli  is  tlie  ab- 
sence of  all  tlie  colours,  is  quite  as  positive,  for  every 
practical  purpose,  as  any  of  tlie  seven  !  As  if,  however 
true  it  be  that  science  cannot  come  by  nature,  it  is  not 
quite  as  certain  that  sin  will !  As  if  the  bias  were  not, 
from  the  start,  away  from  God  !  As  if  the  attraction 
of  the  world  were  not  continually  increasing  it !  As 
if  the  devil  were  not  diligent  in  his  vocation,  beyond 
the  most  devoted  teacher  of  us  all !  As  if  the  question 
were  not  settled,  beyond  all  controversy,  in  the  sure 
word  of  God  !  What  was  Abraham's  commendation, 
before  God,  but  this,  "  that  he  will  command  his  chil- 
dren, and  his  household  after  him,  and  they  shall  keej) 
the  way  of  the  Lord  ?  "  What  was  the  noble  resolu- 
tion of  Joshua,  but  this,  "  choose  ye  whom  ye  will  serve ; 
but,  as  for  me  and  my  house,  we  will  serve  the  Lord  ?  " 
What  was  David's  exposition  of  the  matter  but  this, 
tlfkt  God  had  "  made  a  covenant  with  Jacob,  and  given 
a  law  to  Israel,  which  He  commanded  our  forefathers  to 
teach  their  children,  that  their  posterity  might  know  it, 
and  the  children  which  were  yet  unborn  ?  "  What  was 
the  lesson  of  Solomon's  wisdom  but  this,  "  train  up  a 
child  in  the  way  he  should  go,  and  when  he  is  old  he  will 
not  depart  from  it  ? "  How  clear  and  positive  Isaiah's 
doctrine  is  !  "  W^hom  shall  He  teach  knowledo;e  ?  And 
whom  shall  He  make  to  understand  doctrine  ?  Them 
that  are  weaned  from  the  milk,  and  drawn  from  the 
breasts :  for  precept  must  be  uj)on  precept,  precept 
upon  precept,  line  upx)n  line,  line  upon  line,  here  a  lit- 


OF  Christ's  little  CHiLDKEisr.  185 

tie,  and  there  a  little."  And,  finally,  to  cite  no  more, 
liow  perfectly  explicit  is  St.  Paul's  instruction,  "Ye 
fathers,  provoke  not  your  children  to  wrath,  but  bring 
them  up  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord  !  " 
And  how  beautiful  the  illustration,  in  his  own  Timo- 
thy, who,  "  from  a  child,"  had  "  known  the  Holy  Scrip- 
tures, which"  were  ."  able  to  make"  him  "wise  unto 
salvation  !  "  "  This  culture,  this  training,"  says  the  ad- 
mirable Bishop  Jebb,  "  ought  to  commence  at  a  far 
earlier  period  than  people  are  commonly  aware  of  In 
husbandry,  our  care  begins,  long  before  the  process  of 
vegetation  is  at  all  apparent.  We  water  the  ground 
before  the  first  shoot  appears ;  and,  from  the  moment  it 
does  appear,  our  carefulness  knows  no  intermission. 
And  so  it  ought  to  be  in  God's  husbandry.  The  infant 
mind  puts  forth  its  shoots  with  the  first  dawnings  of 
sensation  :  and  at  this  period  it  is,  that  the  most  lasting 
and  invaluable  impressions  may  be  made.  The  animal 
and  sensitive  parts  of  our  nature  are  then  in  full  vig- 
our ;  and  as  these  are  then  treated,  the  futui'e  happiness 
or  futm'e  misery  of  the  human  being,  will,  to  an  incal- 
culable extent,  be  determined.  For  it  may  be  safely 
affirmed,  on  the  authority,  and  from  the  experience  of 
those  who  are  best  qualified  to  speak  on  such  subjects, 
that,  even  before  reason  is  perceptibly  unfolded,  the  ap- 
petites, the  passions,  the  affections  take  their  bias 
towards  evil  or  towards  good :  and  those  wrong  pro- 
2)ensities,  which  it  will  cost  years  of  exertion  to  eradi- 
cate, may  with  ease  be  nipt  in  the  bud ;  and  those 
good  habits,  which  are  afterwards  to  be  attained  with 


186  THE  CHURCH  THE  TEACHER 

cost  and  difficulty,  may,  by  pro]3er  management,  be  now 
made,  as  it  were,  tlie  original  impulse  of  the  soul."* 

ii.  The  Saviour's  little  childi^en,  it  is  certain,  must 
be  taught.  Tlie  Church  must  do  it.  Such  is  the  pre- 
cept of  the  Saviour.  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou 
Me,  more  than  these  ?  Feed  my  lambs."  So,  to  the 
Twelve,  the  great  commission  ran^  "  Go  ye,  therefore, 
and  make  disciples  of  all  nations,  baptizing  them,  in 
the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost ;  teaching  them  to  observe  all  things  whatsoever 
I  have  commanded  you."  And  so  did  the  Apostle,  on 
the  day  of  Pentecost,  clearly  apj)ly  it,  "  Repent,  and  be 
baptized,  every  one  of  you,  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ, 
for  the  remission  of  sins,  and  ye  shall  receive  the  gift 
of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  for  the  promise  is  to  you  and  to 
your  children."  There  is  no  aspect  of  the  Church,  in 
Holy  Scripture,  which  does  not  clearly  show,  that  she 
is  charged  of  God  with  the  religious  care  of  little  chil- 
dren. What  does  the  figure  of  a  Living  Body  teach  us, 
but  that  every  member  is  to  grow  "  up  unto  Him,  in  all 
things,  which  is  the  head,  even  Christ ;"  the  babe,  to 
attain  through  grace,  to  the  full  stature  of  the  perfect 
man?  "What  does  the  figure  of  a  Vine  express,  but 
that  the  scion,  grafted  into  it,  takes  nourishment  from 
it,  lives  through  its  root,  is  nourished  by  its  moisture, 
and  from  it  derives  the  streno;th  and  fatness  which  de- 
velope  every  bud,  and  leaf,  and  tendril,  and  which  swell 
and  sweeten  in  the  frdl  and  purple  cluster  ?  And  what 
is  the  lesson  which  the  Fold  supplies,  but  that  the  Sa- 

*  Practical  Tlicology,  ii.  107. 


OF  cheist's  little  childeen.  18T 

viour's  lambs  are  placed  within  tlie  shelter  of  its  sacred 
pale,  that  safe  from  all  the  chances  of  the  world,  the 
venomous  reptile,  and  the  ravenous  beast,  the  food  that 
sickens,  and  the  precipice  that  kills,  they  may  be  fed 
securely  at  His  hand,  and  pass  fi'om  earthly  refuge  to 
the  blessed  bosom  of  the  Shepherd  in  the  heavens  ? 
That  it  may  be  so — rather,  because  it  must  be  so — the 
very  first  act  of  this  training ;  or  rather,  the  birth  of 
the  new  nature,  which  we  hope  to  train,  is  holy  bap- 
tism :  "  a  death  unto  sin,  and  a  new  birth  unto  right- 
eousness ;  for  being  by  natui'e  born  in  sin,  and  the  chil- 
dren of  wrath,  we  are  hereby  made  the  children  of 
grace.  " 

"  Blest  be  the  Church,  that,  watching  o'er  the  needs 
Of  Infancy,  provides  a  timely  shower, 
Whose  virtue  changes  to  a  Christian  Flower 
The  sinful  product  of  a  bed  of  weeds  !  "  f 

But  great,  beyond  expression,  as  this  blessing  is, 
we  are  not  left  to  rest  on  it  one  moment.  Just  as  St. 
Paul  no  sooner  says,  "  according  to  His  mercy  He  saved 
us,  by  the  washing  of  regeneration,"  than  he  adds,  in  the 
same  breath,  "  and  the  renewing  of  the  Holy  Ghost ; " 
so  does  the  Church,  in  her  Baptismal  Service,  from  the 
declaration,  "  seeing  now,  dearly  beloved  brethren,  that 
this  child  is  regenerate,"  pass  on,  at  once,  to  the  explicit 
exhortation,  "  let  us  make  our  prayers,  that  he  may  lead 
the  rest  of  his  life  according  to  this  beginning."  Nor 
does  she  leave  us  ignorant  of  what  this  means,  nor  bury 
it  in  vague  and  barren  generalities  ;  but,  in  her  Exhor- 

*  Catccldsm.  \  WordsxoorUi,  Ecclesiastical  Sonnets,  xvi. 


188  TUB    CHUECH   THE   TEACHER 

tation  to  tlie  Sj)onsors,  traces  out  tlie  course  of  duty, 
witli  a  sunbeam's  clearness  :  "  forasmucli  as  tliis  cLild 
liatli  promised  by  you  Ms  sureties,  to  renounce  the  devil 
and  all  Ms  works,  to  believe  in  God  and  to  serve  Him, 
ye  must  remember  tliat  it  is  your  parts  and  duties  to 
see  that  this  infant  be  taught,  so  soon  as  he  shall  be 
able  to  learn,  what  a  solemn  vow,  promise,  and  pro- 
fession he  hath  here  made  by  you.  And,  that  he  may 
know  these  things  the  better,  ye  shall  call  on  him  to 
hear  sermons,  and  chiefly  ye  shall  provide  that  he  may 
learn  the  Creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Ten  Com- 
mandments, and  all  other  things  which  a  Christian 
ought  to  know  and  believe  to  his  soul's  health ;  and 
that  this  child  may  be  ^drtuously  brought  up  to  lead  a 
godly  and  a  Christian  life :  remembering  always  that 
baptism  doth  represent  unto  us  our  j)rofession ;  which 
is  to  follow  the  example  of  our  Saviour  Christ,  and  to 
be  made  like  unto  Him ;  that,  as  He  died  and  rose 
again  for  us,  so  should  we,  who  are  baptized,  die  from 
sin,  and  rise  again  unto  righteousness,  continually  mor- 
tifying all  our  evil  and  corrupt  affections,  and  daily  pro- 
ceeding in  all  virtue  and  godliness  of  living." 

This  is  the  office  which  the  Saviour  has  enjoined  in 
that  expressive  sentence,  feed  my  lambs.  Only  the 
Church  can  cany  it  into  effect.  Only  the  Church  has 
perpetuity  of  being,  "  through  the  power  of  an  endless 
life."  Only  the  Church  has  claim  to  confidence,  as  cer- 
tain to  maintain  the  truth,  of  which  she  is  divinely  set, 
to  be  the  ground  and  pillar.  Only  the  Church  has  such 
authority,  as  will  submit  to  it  the  mils  of  sinful  men. 


OF  chkist's  little  children.  189 

in  the  reception  of  lier  witness  for  the  faitli.  Only  the 
Church  has  influence  to  draw  men  to  her,  to  present 
their  little  children  to  her  healthful  breast.  Only  the 
Church  hath  adaptation  to  all  classes  of  society,  to  all 
states  of  human  nature,  to  all  conditions  of  the  world, 
to  train  them  up  for  that  to  which  God's  providence 
appoints  them.  Only  the  Church  hath  unity  and  uni- 
versal being,  so  that  all  men,  every  where,  brought 
into  union  with  her,  in  the  reception  of  her  creeds  and 
ritual,  are  brought  together  in  Christ  Jesus ;  and  be- 
come, like  her  first  members,  "  of  one  heart  and  of  one 
soul."  Only  the  Church  has  promise  of  that  blessing, 
without  which  all  desires  are  hopeless,  and  all  efforts 
vain,  the  presence,  with,  and  in  her,  of  her  heavenly 
Head  :  "  Lo,  I  am  with  you,  alway,  even  unto  the  end 
of  the  world  !  " 

Great  and  manifold  are  the  advantages  wdth  which 
the  Saviour  hath  supplied  the  Church,  for  this  most 
sacred  trust,  the  care  of  His  dear  lambs.  The  very 
name  by  which  He  loves  to  name  it,  the  Fold,  the  One 
Fold,  of  the  one  great  Shej^herd ;  the  very  name  by 
which,  even  of  old.  His  ransomed  were  described,  in 
David's  fervent  strain,  "  His  people  and  the  Sheep  of 
His  pasture ;  the  very  name  by  which  His  ministers 
are  spoken  of,  throughout  both  Testaments,  "  Pastors," 
"  Pastors  according  to  His  o-wn  heart,"  "  Pastors  that 
feed  His  Sheep : "  all  show  the  purpose  of  His  heart, 
to  take  the  tenderest  care  of  them  whose  helplessness 
leans  most  upon  His  love,  that  they  should  be  led  into 
green  pastures,  and  brought  forth  beside  the  w^aters  of 


190  THE  CHUECH  THE  TEACHEE 

comfort.  Most  surely,  if  there  be  a  tliouglit  tliat  must 
engage  tlie  sympatliies,  and  absorb  tlie  interest,  and  tax 
every  effort,  and  fill  every  fervent  prayer  with  living 
fire,  in  tliem  that  minister  in  holy  things,  it  is  the  ap- 
peal thus  made  to  all  their  manliness.  In  the  commis- 
sion which  they  bear ;  in  the  education  which  they  re- 
ceive ;  in  the  opportunities  which  they  enjoy ;  in  their 
access  to  every  hearth ;  in  the  confidence  of  every  heart ; 
in  their  whole  postm^e  and  relation  to  the  community 
in  which  they  serve  ;  in  their  participation,  on  the  one 
hand,  in  all  the  cares  and  trials  of  the  daily  life  of  theii' 
parishioners,  and  in  the  reverence  and  dignity,  upon  the 
other,  with  which,  by  their  holy  calling,  they  are  in- 
vested, all  is  combined  which  qualifies  them  best  for 
this  most  sacred  trust.  To  them,  the  little  infants,  in 
their  new-born  helplessness,  are  brought,  that  they  may 
claim  them,  fi-om  the  world,  for  Christ.  Even  as  He 
did,  so  do  they,  they  take  them  up  in  their  arms,  put 
their  hands  upon  them,  and  bless  them.  Before  they 
Jay  them  back  on  their  own  mother's  bosom,  to  nui'se 
them  for  their  Lord,  they  tell  them  what  they  are  to 
do.  Soon  as  their  tottering  feet  can  bring  them  up, 
and  their  lisping  tongues  can  utter  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
they  call  them  to  the  sacred  rail.  There,  in  the  Cate- 
chism, which  our  true  Mother,  with  such  sound  wis- 
dom, has  prejjared  for  her  dear  children,  they  are  assid- 
uously, with  utmost  tenderness,  instructed,  "  what  a 
Christian  ought  to  know  and  believe,  to  his  soul's 
health."  If  any  question  of  their  comj)rehension  to  re- 
ceive these  mysteries,  as  some,  in  old  time,  were  dis- 


OF  Christ's  little  children.  191 

pleased  to  liear  tlie  children  crying  in  tlie  Temple,  and 
saying,  in  words  whicli  even  tlieir  teachers  did  not  un- 
derstand, "  Hosanna  to  the  Son  of  David,"  they  are  re- 
minded of  what  He  replied,  "  Yea,  have  ye  never  read, 
out  of  the  mouth  of  babes  and  sucklings  Thou  hast 
perfected  praise  ? " 

"  Oh  say  not,  dream  not,  heavenly  notes 
To  childish  ears  are  vain, 
That  the  young  mind  at  random  floats 
And  cannot  reach  the  strain. 

"  Dim  or  unheard,  the  words  may  fall, 
And  yet  the  heaven-taught  mind 
May  learn  the  sacred  air,  and  all 
The  harmony  unwind. 

"  And,  if  some  tones  be  false,  or  low, 
What  are  all  prayers  beneath, 
But  cries  of  babes,  that  cannot  know 
Half  the  deep  thoughts  they  breathe  ? 

"  In  his  own  words  we  Christ  adore, 
But  angels,  as  we  speak. 
Higher  above  our  meaning  soar. 
Than  we  o'er  children  weak  : 

"  And  yet  His  words  mean  more  than  they. 
And  yet  He  owns  their  praise  : 
Why  should  we  think.  He  turns  awa} 
From  infant's  simple  lays  1  "* 

Nor  is  this  teaching  to  be  carried  on  without  a  plan. 
They  labour  for  an  end.  The  Catechism  which  they 
teach,  is  "  to  be  learned  by  every  person,  before  he  be 

*  Christian  Year. 


192  THE   CHUECH   THE   TEACHER 

brouglit  to  be  confirmed  by  tlie  Bisliop.  And  again, 
"  as  soon  as  children  are  come  to  a  competent  age,  and 
can  say  tlie  Creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the  Ten 
Commandments,  and  can  answer  to  the  other  questions 
of  this  short  Catechism,  they  shall  be  brought  to  the 
Bishop."  Beautiful  and  touching  condescension  of  the 
Church  !  Nothing  in  her  that  is  too  good  for  little 
children  !  The  Saviour  laid  His  hands  on  them,  when 
they  were  brought  to  Him.  What  is  the  chiefest  of 
Apostles,  that  he  should  not  as  graciously  receive  them  ? 
Thus,  in  the  solemn  and  affecting  rite  of  Confii'mation, 
in  the  sight  of  men  and  holy  angels,  does  the  Church 
approve  herself  the  faithful  spouse  of  Christ ;  taking  to 
her  bosom  the  children  of  His  love ;  supplicating  for 
them,  in  fullest  measure,  the  graces  of  His  Spirit ;  certi- 
fying by  most  expressive  and  authentic  sign  His  favour 
and  gracious  goodness  towards  them,  and  admitting  them 
thenceforward,  to  the  full  j^rivilege  of  those  whom  she 
addi'esses  and  describes  in  that  most  faithful  exhorta- 
tion ;  "  Ye  who  do  truly  and  earnestly  repent  you  of 
your  sins,  and  are  in  love  and  charity  with  your  neigh- 
bours, and  intend  to  lead  a  new  life,  following  the  com- 
mandments of  God,  and  walking  from  henceforth  in  His 
holy  ways,  draw  near  with  faith,  and  take  this  Holy 
Sacrament  to  your  comfort,  and  make  your  hmnble 
confession  to  Almighty  God,  devoutly  kneeling." 

Such  is  the  nature,  such  the  aim,  and  such  the 
daily  course,  of  that  high  trust,  which,  through  the  son 
of  Jonas,  Christ  committed  to  His  Church,  when  He 
addressed  to  him  those  words  of  utmost    tenderness. 


OF  Christ's  little  childeeist.  193 

"  Feed  My  lambs."  There  should  be,  one  would 
surely  think,  in  the  mere  helplessness  of  little  childi*en, 
an  eloquence,  to  win  the  pastor's  heart ;  and  almost 
make  us  feel  that  it  might  draw  him  off  from  the  less 
interesting  portions  of  his  flock.  But,  though  we  thank- 
fully admit  a  great  improvement  in  this  matter,  and 
hopefully  believe  that  more  is  yet  in  store,  it  is  not  yet 
appreciated  as  it  ought  to  be.  The  religious  education 
of  the  young,  it  must  be  owned,  is  fearfully  neglected. 
It  is  not  urged,  we  must  confess,  with  truth  and  power 
and  plainness,  upon  parents.  It  is  delegated,  too  much, 
it  must  be  honestly  admitted,  to  irresponsible,  unquali- 
fied and  inexperienced  persons.  What  the  pastor  does, 
is  done  too  often  as  a  secondary  work,  in  intervals  of 
other  duty,  in  weariness  and  painfulness  and  haste, 
ineffectively,  unsatisfactorily,  imperfectly.  It  is  not 
well  that  this  is  so.  If  we  would  leave  our  mark  upon 
the  age  in  which  Ave  live,  we  must  begin  with  children. 
If  we  would  reform,  refine,  and  elevate  society,  we  must 
begin  with  children.  If  we  would  extend  the  borders, 
and  multiply  the  altars,  of  the  Church,  we  must  begin 
with  children.  If  we  would  please  God,  and  glorify 
His  name,  we  must  begin  with  little  children. 

We  must  begin  with  little  children,  and  go  on  with 
them  as  long  as  they  are  children.  Never  let  go  youi* 
hold  on  them,  till  they  are  men  and  women,  in  Christ- 
Jesus.  Take  up,  and  faithfully  carry  out,  the  provisions 
of  the  Church,  in  Infant  Baptism,  the  Catechising,  and 
Confirmation.  Look  upon  Sunday  Schools,  not  as  the 
substitute,  at  all,  but  the  subsidiary  of  your  toil  and 

VOL.  IV. 13 


194  THE    CHUECH   THE   TEACHEE 

care.  See  that  tlieir  instructions  are  in  agreement  with, 
the  truth  of  Scripture,  and  their  arrangements  in  accord- 
ance with  the  Church.  Eemember,  it  is  "  the  priest's 
lips  "  that  are  to  "  keep  knowledge."  Gather  the  lambs, 
then,  with  your  own  arm.  Carry  them  in  your  own 
bosom.  It  is  for  these  the  shepherd  plies  his  utmost  care. 
They  need  the  most,  and  best  repay,  his  watchftilness 
and  tenderness.  Then,  indeed,  the  children  of  our  charge 
will  grow  up  "  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the 
Lord."  Then,  indeed,  the  children  of  om'  charge,  as 
they  increase  "in  wisdom  and  in  stature,"  may  be 
expected  to  increase  "  in  favour  with  God  and  man." 
Then,  indeed,  it  may  be  ours  to  say,  before  the  mercy- 
seat  of  the  eternal  Father,  "  Behold  I,  and  the  childi'en 
which  God  hath  given  me." 

iii.  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  Me  more  than 
these  ?  "  "  Feed  My  lambs."  The  Saviour's  little  chil- 
dren must  be  taught.  The  Church  must  do  it.  It  is 
the  test  of  lier  true  love  for  Him.  The  Saviour  intimates 
how  much  it  is  so,  in  the  delicate  discrimination  which 
He  makes.  "  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  Me  ?  " 
"  Feed  My  sheep."  "  Lovest  thou  Me  more  than 
these  ?  "  "  Feed  My  lambs."  And  it  is  true  to  nature, 
and  to  truth.  The  care  of  little  children  is  an  arduous 
work.  It  is  a  work  that  never  can  be  done.  It  often 
seems  a  profitless  and  thankless  work.  Therefore  it 
needs,  therefore  it  is  the  test  of,  tmest  love.  "  Simon, 
son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  Me  rtwre  than  these  f  "    "  Feed 

LAMBS." 

1.  It  needs  the  interest  of  love.     Observe  that  way- 


OF  Christ's  little  childeen.  195 

ward  child.  Observe  tliat  Christian  mother.  See  how 
perverse  his  will.  See  how  ungracious  his  deportment. 
His  looks  how  petulant.  His  words  how  ]'ude.  Day 
after  day,  he  disregards  her  will.  Day  after  day,  he 
taxes  all  her  strength.  Day  after  day,  he  disappoints 
her  hopes,  he  disajDpoints  her  prayers.  To  other  eyes, 
there  seems  no  goodness  in  him.  In  other  lips,  he 
passes  as  a  monster,  and  a  cast-away.  But  no  such 
word  is  upon  her  tongue.  No  such  thought  rises  in  her 
heart.  She  sees  in  him  her  child.  Her  nature  yearns 
over  itself.  She  loves  him  for  her  love  of  him.  Some- 
thing like  this,  as  near  like  it  as  might  be,  the  Apostle 
tells  us  that  he  felt  for  his  Galatian  converts ;  "  My 
little  children,  of  whom  I  travail  in  birth  again,  until 
Christ  be  formed  in  you."  Something  like  this  must 
be  in  that  true  pastor,  who  would  feed  the  Saviour's 
lambs.  He  must  love  Jesus  more  than  other  men. 
A  task  so  arduous  calls  for  and  requires  the  interest  of 
love. 

2.  Again,  it  needs  the  ingenuity  of  love.  Nothing  is 
so  ingenious.  You  see  it  in  the  skill  with  which  brute 
nature  carries  out  the  instinct  of  its  kind.  You  feel  it  in 
the  downy  plumage  with  which  the  blue-bird  lines  its 
nest.  Love  never  is  at  fault.  It  watches  opportunities. 
It  makes  them,  if  it  does  not  find  them.  It  learns  to 
wait.  It  skills  to  bring  all  knowledge,  and  all  energies, 
to  bear  on  the  right  point.  It  is  as  various  as  the 
occasions  that  exert  it,  and  as  inexhaustible  as  the 
deep  fountain  of  the  uncreated  essence  from  whose 
depths    it    springs.       The    pastoral    teaching    of   the 


196  THE    CIIUECII   THE   TEACHER 

Saviour's  little  cliildren  tasks  it  all.  So  many  different 
dispositions  !  So  many  different  conditions !  So  many 
different  circumstances !  So  many  degrees  of  under- 
standing !  So  many  grades  of  acquirement !  So  many 
shades  of  spiritual  progress  !  All  to  be  met.  All  to  be 
provided  for.  All  to  be  encouraged.  So  mucli  to  do, 
and  so  little  time  to  do  it  in.  So  mucli  to  undo,  and 
sucli  a  fearful  odds  in  opposition.  Weariness  to  be 
avoided.  Offence  to  be  avoided.  Undue  indulgence 
to  be  avoided.  The  forward  to  be  repressed.  The 
vrilful  to  be  reproved.  The  diffident  to  be  encouraged. 
The  tender  hearted  to  be  protected.  The  weak  to  be 
sustained.  The  thought  to  be  ever  present,  that  every 
child  has  an  immortal  soul ;  and  that  its  destiny  here- 
after may  be  shaped  by  a  word  said,  that  should  not 
have  been  said,  by  a  word  not  said,  that  should  have 
been  said.  What  exercise  and  what  necessity  for  all 
the  ingenuity  of  love  ! 

3.  And  it  needs  tlie  constancy  of  love.  The  train- 
ing up  of  children  is  emphatically  a  work,  never  ending, 
still  beginning.  The  interest  and  ingenuity  of  years 
may  lose  its  labour  through  an  hour's  neglect.  If  it 
could  all  be  done  at  once,  if  there  were  any  given  time 
in  which  it  could  be  done,  if  the  marks  of  progress  could 
be  noted  always,  and  this  year  s  issues  be  compared 
with  those  of  former  years,  the  trial  would  be  less. 
But  it  cannot  be  so.  The  philosophy  of  teaching  chil- 
dren, and  especially  of  their  religious  teaching,  has 
something  in  it  of  homoeopathy.  It  is  "  line  uj)on  line, 
line  upon  line."     It  is  "  precept  upon  precept,  precept 


OF  Christ's  little  childeen.  197 

upon  precept."  It  is  "  here  a  little,  and  tliere  a  little." 
The  slow  attrition  of  the  di'op,  that  wears  away  the 
stone.  The  slow  accumulation  of  the  coral  insect,  that 
builds  up  the  continent.  Nothing  so  tires,  nothing  so 
wearies,  nothing  so  tempts  to  disappointment  and  disgust. 
Like  that  teacher  of  the  blind,  who,  after  years  of  trial, 
when  he  thought  his  pupil  surely  now  had  mastered  the 
whole  mystery  of  light,  was  dismayed  and  overpowered 
by  the  ingenuous  question,  "  Is  it  made  of  sugar  ? " 
There  is  nothing  that  so  needs  the  persevering,  never 
tiring  constancy  of  love. 

4.  Of  course  it  needs  tlie  self-denial  and  self-sacri- 
fice of  love.  This  is  the  point  of  failure.  Motives  of 
various  kinds  and  various  power  will  effect  much.  A 
sense  of  duty  will  go  far.  The  temporal  issues  will 
weigh  much.  A  kindly  nature  and  quick  sympathy 
are  influential.  Attachments  will  be  formed  that  have 
great  power  to  reconcile  to  effort  and  forbearance.  But, 
one  by  one,  these  all  will  fail.  Cases  will  arise,  to 
which  not  one  of  them  is  adequate.  The  body  will 
wear  out,  the  mind  will  totter  on  its  seat,  the  heart  will 
fail  and  faint.  To  such  an  emergency,  no  temporal 
consideration  will  respond.  For  such  a  waste,  life  has 
no  adequate  return.  Nothing  but  the  love  of  Christ, 
nothing  but  the  love  which  kindles  at  the  Cross,  noth- 
ing but  the  love  which  crucifies  itself  in  Christ,  will 
every  where  and  always  be  sufficient  for  these  things. 
"  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me,"  "  lovest  thou 
Me  ]\roEE  than  these  ?  "     "  Feed  :my  lambs." 

Dear  brethren  of  my  pastoral  care,  you  cannot  look 


198         THE  CHUKCH  THE  TEACHEE,  ETC. 

on  the  beloved  children,  who  are  gathered  to  us  here, 
from  every  quarter  of  our  land,  and  not  appreciate  the 
purpose,  and  own  the  fitness,  of  my  theme,  to-day.  To 
be  made  central,  in  the  providential  ordering  of  God,  to 
so  many  hearts  of  parents  and  of  friends,  is  an  appeal 
to  your  best  feelings,  and  a  challenge  to  your  continual 
sympathies.  I  claim  for  these  dear  lambs,  I  claim  for 
my  beloved,  faithful,  fellow-hel23ers  in  their  care  and 
nurture,  I  ask  for  my  own  heart — that  we  may  exercise 
our  sacred  office  with  all  good  fidelity,  and  that  the 
blessing  from  on  high  may  keep  and  crown  our  precious 
trust — the  charity  of  your  continual  prayers.  "  Breth- 
ren, pray  for  us."  And  let  us  pray  together,  as  Royal 
David,  when  he  asked  the  best  things  for  the  Holy 
City,  in  which  God  had  set  His  throne,  "  that  our  sons 
may  grow  up  as  the  young  plants ;  and  that  our 
daughters  may  be  as  the  polished  corners  of  the  tem- 
ple." 


SERMON  II. 

*THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS   OF  BUKLmOTON 
COLLEGE. 

KiKD  Neighbotjes,  and  Dear  Feiends, 

I  bid  you  welcome  to  our  College.  I  count  your 
presence  here,  as  an  omen  of  all  good.  I  read  in  it, 
tlie  strong  assurance  of  your  sympathy  witli  us,  in  our 
great  work.  I  feel,  tliat  we  may  count  on  your  co-oper- 
ation.    I  venture  to  rely  upon  your  prayers. 

It  is  a  special  pleasure  to  us,  tliat  our  modest 
JimiOE  Hall  lias  been  tlie  starting  point  of  the  Bue- 
LmGTOisr  Academy  or  Natueal  Sceences.  I  regard  it  as 
a  gracious  earnest  of  tlie  years  to  come,  that,  in  our 
second,  we  have  won  this  mark  of  gratifying  confidence. 
We  shall  endeavom'  not  to  disappoint  it.  Letters 
and  Science  are  the  pillars,  which  we  look  to,  to  sustain 
the  arch,  to  be  erected  here.  Its  blessing  and  its 
crown,  we  look  for,  in  that  pure  and  undefiled  Religion ; 
to  be  whose  ministering  servants,  is  the  highest  glory, 
as  it  is  the  only  worthy  aim,  of  Science  and  of  Letters. 

The  present  undertaking  proposes  no  contribution 

*  An  address  introductory  to  a  Course  of  Lectures  in  Burlington  College  ; 
A.  D.  1848. 


200     THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 

to  Science^  teclinically  regarded.  The  course  of  Lec- 
tures, to  follow  it,  our  first  fruits  in  tlie  golden  harvest 
of  the  mind,  will  fully  meet  that  expectation  of  the 
case.  My  purpose  will  be  answered,  and  my  estimate 
of  this  occasion  carried  out,  ]:>y  a  brief  outline  of  the 
Ends  and  Objects  of  Buelington  College.  It  is  due 
to  the  kindly  interest  on  your  part,  which  has  brought 
you  here ;  and  due  to  the  great  enterprize,  which  has 
been  undertaken,  and,  I  trust,  will  be  forever  prosecuted, 
in  the  most  holy  fear  of  God.  What  I  say,  will  be  in- 
formal, rapid  and  familiar ;  suggestive,  rather  than 
didactic ;  from  the  heart,  more  than  from  the  head  :  as 
"  a  man  talketh  with  his  friends  ;  "  as  I  well  feel,  that  I 
may  talk  with  you.  In  what  I  say,  I  shall  be  under- 
stood as  instituting  no  comparisons,  as  casting  no 
reflections,  as  j)i'oposing  no  discoveries,  as  claiming 
nothing  as  individual  or  original.  If  there  be  any 
vii'tue  in  our  plans,  it  is  in  their  adaptedness  to  our 
whole  nature,  in  its  moral  and  its  social  aspects  :  if  any 
confidence  in  their  success,  it  is  in  the  commendation  to 
the  hearts  of  men,  which  is  to  come  to  them  from  God. 
The  single  word,  which  best  expresses  all  our  wa3^s  and 
all  our  wishes,  is  the  sacred  monosyllable,  Home.  To 
be  domestic^  first,  and,  then,  religious  ',  blending  the  two 
ideas — which  God  never  meant  should  be  disjoined, 
since  He  first  knit  the  family  bond,  in  Eden — in  that 
expressive  apostolic  phrase,  "  a  household  of  the  faith," 
comprises  all  we  count  on,  for  good  influence,  and  hope 
for,  as  good  result,  from  Burlington  College.  The  Poet 
of  our  times  has  made  the  sky-lark  the  best  emblem  of 


THE  Ei^DS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUKLINGTON  COLLEGE.     201 

oui'  aims  and  prayers ;  and  said,  in  two  lines,  all  that 
we  can  ever  say. 

"  Leave  to  the  nightingale  her  shady  w'ood  ; 
A  privacy  of  glorious  light  is  thine  ; 
Whence  thou  dost  pour  upon  the  world  a  flood 
Of  harmony,  with  instinct  more  divine  ; 
Type  of  the  wise,  who  soar,  but  never  roam, 
True  to  the  kindred  points  of  Heaven  and  Home  !  "  * 

i.  It  is  our  design,  at  Burlington  College,  to  bring 
up  MEN.  I  use  the  phrase,  bring  up,  advisedly.  The 
mere  accident  of  a  man-child,  I  speak  it  not  irrever- 
ently, gives  no  "  assurance  of  a  man."  The  manhood, 
which  the  Maker  planned,  and  takes  delight  in,  fails,  in 
a  thousand  ways,  to  fill  its  glorious  destiny.  If,  fi^om  the 
thousand,  one  be  taken,  as  the  most  extensive  and  most 
influential,  in  this  failure,  it  must  be  self-indulgence. 
He  cannot  be  a  man,  who  has  not  self-control.  As 
well  expect  the  chalk  to  yield  the  spark,  in  its  collision 
with  the  steel,  as  well  expect  the  coal  to  give  the 
lustre  of  the  diamond,  as  manhood,  where  no  hardness 
is  endured.  When  the  Apostle  wrote  to  Timothy, 
"  thou  therefore,  endure  hardness,  as  a  good  soldier  of 
Jesus  Christ,"  he  addressed  him,  not  as  a  Bishoj),  so 
much  as  a  Christian.  As  Christians,  we  are  soldiers  all ; 
pledged  to  fight  manfully  the  battle,  mth  the  flesh,  and 
with  the  world.  And  delicate  women  will  as  soon  en- 
dure the  rigours  of  the  siege,  and  turn  the  current  of 
the  heady  fight,  as  those  be  men,  who  are  not  masters 

*  Wordsworth. 


202     THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUELINGTON  COLLEGE. 

of  tliemselves.  Now,  nature  shrinks  from  liardness. 
They  that  "  train  up  a  child,"  therefore,  his  parents,  or 
his  teachers,  must  inure  him  to  it.  But  j)arents  fail,  in 
this  essential  part  of  duty,  mth  but  few  exceptions ; 
and  indulge  their  children,  even  beyond  the  bias  of 
their  <s'^^-indulgence.  And  so,  sad  to  say,  but  true  as  it 
is  sad,  with  few  exceptions,  children  are  not  training 
to  be  men.  It  is  not  alogether  wonderful  that  this  is  so. 
The  tenderness  of  parents  for  their  offspring,  wisely 
and  mercifully  ordained  of  God,  for  good  and  gracious 
purposes,  runs  easily  into  excess,  or  swerves  unconsciously 
from  the  straight  line  of  duty.  Nothing  but  firm 
religious  j^rinciple,  nor  this,  without  a  constant  watch- 
fulness upon  themselves,  mil  strengthen  and  sustain 
the  parent,  in  this  foremost  trial  of  his  calling.  Hence, 
the  advantage,  if  we  must  not  say,  the  absolute  necessity, 
of  substitutes.  As,  in  the  treatment  of  those  unhappy 
persons,  who  have  lost  the  balance  of  their  minds,  the 
next  of  kin  become  the  least  adapted  to  their  discipline 
and  care ;  so  fi'om  the  want  of  firmness  in  religious 
principle,  parents  too  often  lose  their  fitness  for  the 
training  of  their  children ;  and  parental  instincts  and 
parental  impulses  conspire  to  be  their  ruin.  The  prob- 
lem, for  a  case  like  this,  is  to  supply  parental  interest, 
as  near  as  may  be,  without  parental  weakness.  The 
solution  must  be  found,  if  any  where,  in  a  well  ordered 
Christian  School :  a  home,  for  safety  and  for  happi- 
ness ;  but  not  a  home,  for  weakness  and  indulgence.  In 
such  a  house,  there  must  be  order,  that  never  vaiies ; 
there  must  be  vigilance,  that  never  slumbers ;    there 


THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE.     203 

must  be  patience,  that  never  yields ;  tliere  must  be  love, 
tliat  never  tii'es.  An  atmosphere  must  be  created,  that 
shall  minister  to  wholesomeness,  and  health,  and  strength. 
A  moral  mechanism  must  be  constructed  and  directed, 
that  shall  frame  the  heart,  by  shaping  and  controlling 
all  its  ways :  a  heart-machinery^  that  holds,  but  never 
hurts ;  that  moulds,  but  does  not  mar.  To  this  end. 
Christian  men  and  Christian  women  must  conspire. 
They  must  give  themselves  to  it,  as  heart-wor\  and  as 
Ufe-worh.  They  must  be  moved  to  it,  of  God.  They 
must  be  governed  in  it,  by  His  Word.  They  must  be 
guided  for  it,  by  His  Church.  They  must  be  carried 
through  it,  by  His  Spii'it.  The  fear  of  God  must  be 
the  rule,  the  love  of  God  must  be  the  motive,  to  their 
purposes  and  plans,  their  devotions  and  their  duties. 
They  must  be  willing  to  take  upon  themselves,  that 
most  difficult  and  most  delicate  of  all  responsiblities, 
to  be  the  parents  of  other  people's  childi'en.  They 
must  count  the  cost,  before  they  undertake  it.  They 
must  be  faithful  to  it,  "  in  season,  and  out  of  season." 
They  must  give  themselves  up  to  it,  and  be  altogether 
in  it,  and  of  it.  They  must  count  nothing  done  while 
any  thing  can  yet  be  done.*  They  must  live,  and 
breathe,  and  he^  that  love,  which  "  suffereth  long,  and  is 
kind,"  Avhich  "  vaunteth  not  itself,"  which  "  is  not  easily 
provoked,"  which  "  beareth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things," 
and  "  endureth  all  things  ;  "  and  which  "  never  faileth." 
They  must  know  and  feel  that  this  is  not  their  rest. 
They  must  live  daily  in  the  sense,  that  their  reward  is, 

*  "  Nil  rcputans  actum,  dum  quid  superesset  agendum." 


204   THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUKLINGTON  COLLEGE. 

with  tlieir  record,  uj)ou  liigli.  '^  They  that  be  teachers 
shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firmament ;  and  they 
that  turn  many  to  righteousness,  as  the  stars  forever 
and  ever." 

What  requirements  I  have  enumerated  !  What  a 
provision  I  have  suj)posed  !  What  self-sacrifice  I  have 
taken  for  granted  !  Shall  it  not  be  met  ?  Shall  it  not 
be  reverenced  ?  Shall  it  not  be  loved  ?  I  answer,  with- 
out fear,  that  it  will  be  !  I  speak,  without  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt,  when  I  say,  that,  to  an  appeal,  such  as  is  here 
supposed,  the  child's  heart  will  surrender,  at  discretion. 
There  will  be  differences  in  cases.  Some  will  require 
more  than  others.  Some  must  be  met  in  different  ways 
from  others.  Some  will  seem  sometimes  almost  beyond 
the  all-enduring  hoj)e  of  such  a  love.  But  they,  if  any 
such  there  be,  that  are  beyond  it,  quite,  are  monsters, 
and  not  children.  Within  the  breast  of  every  child 
there  is  an  embryo  man ;  God's  image,  in  a  shrine  of 
mortal  clay.  And,  when  it  finds  itself  in  a  congenial 
atmosphere,  and  feels  itself  in  contact  with  a  heart,  it 
springs  to  meet  it,  is  imbued  with  its  outcoming  virtue, 
and  is  humanized  by  its  experience  of  humanity.  We 
are  told  that,  the  Parian  marble,  before  the  sculptor's 
eye  had  fallen  upon  it,  or  his  hand  had  touched  it,  con- 
tained, in  the  perfection  of  its  beauty,  the  Apollo 
Belvidere.  He  only  found  it,  and  ex|)osed  it  to  the 
gaze  of  an  admiring  world.  And  old  Prometheus,  as 
we  read,  kindled,  with  fire  from  heaven,  the  clay-cold 
statue,  into  life,  and  loveliness,  and  love.  But,  tell  me, 
what  are  these  but  allegories,  to  set  forth  the  beauty 


THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUELINGTON  COLLEGE.     205 

and  power  of  Cheistiajn"  Education  ?     And,  wliat  are 
tliese  results,  but  faint  and  far-off  shadows,  to  tlieir  tri- 
umph,  who,   by   patient    love,    and    faithful    prayer, 
develope,  through  the  agency  of  the  transforming  Spirit, 
from  the  dull  and  sluggish  and  corrupted  mass  of  our 
poor  fallen  nature,  a  gracious  child,  a  glorious  youth, 
a  god-like  man  ?     The  manliness  of  love,  the  manliness 
of  truth,  the  manliness  of  i^iety  !     The  manliness  that 
wears    the    spirit  on  the    brow;    purer    than   purest 
chrystal,  more    transparent  and  more  precious.     The 
manliness,  that  bears  the  heart  out  in  the  hand ;  no 
j^lan,  no  purpose,  no  pursuit,  no  palpitation,  that  it 
shrinks  to  show.     The  manliness,  that  fears  to  sin,  but 
knows  no  other  fear.      The  manliness,  that  knows  to 
die,  but  not  to  lie.     The  manliness,  that  never  boasts. 
The  manliness,  that  never  domineers.     The  manliness, 
that  never  swears.     The  manliness,  that  never  drinks- 
The  manliness,  that  bows,  in  meek  compliance,  with 
the  shadow  of  a  parent's  wish.     The  manliness,  that 
sees,  in  every  woman,  the  sex  to  which  we  owe  our 
mothers.      The  manliness,  to  look  all  danger  in  the  face, 
and  seize  it  by  the  horns.     The  manliness,  to  bear  all 
hardships,  without  grudging ;    and    to    render    every 
honest  service,  without  shame.     The  manliness,  to  rev- 
erence the  poor.     The  manliness,  to  make  concessions 
to  the  weak.    The  manliness,  to  feel.     The  manliness,  to 
pity.     And  the  manliness,  to  pray.     This  is  the  manli- 
ness, we  ask  from  God,  for  these  dear  children.     Such 
are  the  men,  we  strive,  through  grace,  to  form,  at  Bur- 
lington College. 


206    THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUELINGTON  COLLEGE. 

ii.  It  is  our  design,  at  Burlington  College,  to  bring 
up  GEiSTTLEMEisr.  When  you  have  found  a  man,  you 
have  not  far  to  go,  to  find  a  gentleman.  You  cannot 
make  a  gold  ring,  out  of  brass.  You  cannot  change  a 
Cairn-gorm,  or  a  Cape  May  chrystal,  to  a  diamond. 
You  cannot  make  a  gentleman,  till  you  have  first  a  man. 
To  be  a  gentleman,  it  will  not  be  sufficient  to  have  had 
a  grandfather. 

"  What  can  ennoble  sots,  or  slaves,  or  cowards  ? 
Alas,  not  all  the  blood  of  all  the  Howards !  " 

To  be  a  gentleman,  does  not  depend  upon  the  tailor, 
or  the  toilet.  The  proof  of  gentlemen  is  not  to  do 
no  work.  Blood  will  degenerate.  Good  clothes  are 
not  2"ood  habits.  The  Prince  Lee  Boo  concluded  that 
the  hog,  in  England,  was  the  only  gentleman,  as  being 
the  only  thing  that  did  not  labour.  A  gentleman  is 
just  a  gentle-man  ;  no  more,  no  less :  a  diamond  polished, 
that  was  first  a  diamond  in  the  rough.  A  gentleman  is 
gentle.  A  gentleman  is  modest.  A  gentleman  is  cour- 
teous. A  gentleman  is  generous.  A  gentleman  is  slow 
to  take  offence,  as  being  one  that  never  gives  it.  A 
gentleman  is  slow  to  surmise  evil,  as  being  one  that 
never  thinks  it.  A  gentleman  goes  armed,  only  in  con- 
sciousness of  right.  A  gentleman  subjects  his  appe- 
tites. A  gentleman  refines  his  tastes.  A  gentleman 
subdues  his  feelings.  A  gentleman  controls  his  speech. 
A  gentleman  deems  every  other  better  than  himself. 
Sir  Philip  Sidney  was  never  so  much  a  gentleman — 
mirror,  though  he  w^as,  of  England's  knighthood — as 


THE  EISTDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE.    207 

when,  upon  the  field  of  Zutphen,  as  he  lay  in  his  owti 
blood,  he  waived  the  draft  of  cool  spring  water,  that 
was  brought,  to  quench  his  mortal  thirst,  in  favour  of 
a  dying  soldier.  St.  Paul  described  a  gentleman,  when 
he  exhorted  the  Philippian  Christians,  "  Whatsoever 
things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest,  whatso- 
ever things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are  pure,  what- 
soever things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of  good 
report,  if  there  be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any 
praise,  think  on  these  things."  And  Dr.  Isaac  Barrow, 
in  his  admirable  Sermon,  on  the  calling  of  a  Gentleman, 
pointedly  says,  "  he  should  labour  and  study  to  be  a 
leader  unto  virtue,  and  a  notable  promoter  thereof;  di- 
recting and  exciting  men  thereto,  by  his  exemplary  con- 
versation ;  encouraging  them  by  his  countenance  and 
authority ;  rewarding  the  goodness  of  meaner  people, 
by  his  bounty  and  favour :  he  should  be  such  a  gentle- 
man as  Noah,  who  preached  righteousness,  by  his  words 
and  works,  before  a  profane  world." 

iii.  It  is  om*  design,  at  Burlington  College,  to  bring 
up  scHOLAKS.  This  is  the  obvious  point  of  our  voca- 
tion. It  is  by  our  undertaking  to  do  this,  that  we  get 
the  opportunity  to  do  all  the  rest.  For,  sad  to  say,  to 
send  a  boy,  at  charges,  to  be  made  a  man,  or  made  a 
gentleman,  would  be  thought  of  by  but  very  few,  were 
not  the  outside  motive  kept  in  view,  to  make  him  a 
good  scholar.  We  find  no  fault  with  this.  We  rather 
rejoice  in  it.  For  its  own  sake,  it  would  move  us  to 
great  efforts,  and  great  sacrifices.  How  much  more,  for 
the  other  things,  for  which  it  gives  us  the  occasion ! 


208    THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUELINGTON  COLLEGE. 

We  aim  at  highest,  most  exact,  and  fullest,  scholarship. 
We  have  laid  out  a  course,  which  will  fulfil  this  aim,  in 
all  who  give  themselves  to  it,  without  reserve.     We 
hold  the  study  of  the  ancient  languages  of  Greece  and 
Rome  essential  to  the  height,  exactitude,  and  fulness  of 
the  real  scholar.     In  their  living  use,  they  trained  the 
brightest   minds   the   world  has  ever  known :  minds, 
whose  reflected  brightness  has  lighted  all  the  after  ages, 
in  the  path  of  learning.     While,  in  the  land  of  our 
forefathers,  they  have  been,  for  ages,  and  yet  are,  the 
school  of  highest  and  of  noblest  intellect,  in  every  branch 
of  service  in  the  Church  or  State,  in  arts,  in  poetry,  in 
letters,  in  philosophy,  in  universal  science.     It  were  an 
insult,  now,  to  vindicate,  in  words,  the  value  of  these 
parts  of  learning,  as  opening  the  storehouses  of  wisdom ; 
or,  still  more,  for  mental   discipline   and   cultivation. 
But,  how  often  are  the  names  of  TuUy  and  of  Plato 
upon  tongues,  that  have  not  mastered  the  first  elements 
of  their  respective  languages.     How  many  have  "  gone 
over "  Virgil,  mthout  a  trace  of  his  refinement ;   or 
Homer,  without  a  dream  of  his  inunitable  truth  to  na- 
ture.     Therefore,  we  have  taken  the  ground,  and  will 
maintain  it,  let  it  cost  however  much  it  may,  that  boys, 
who  come  to  us,  and  stay  with  us,  shall  be  made  thor- 
ough in  their  Classical  attainments.     We  have  made  up 
our  minds  to  all  the  toil,  and  all  the  self-denial,  of  the 
sternest  and  most  searching  drill.     No  boy  shall  take 
a  place  with  us,  on  which  he  cannot  stand ;  nor  have 
the  name  of  any  form,  or  any  class,  without  the  spirit 
and  the  power  for  which  it  stands.     We  know  that  this 


THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUELINGTON  COLLEGE.     209 

will  cost  US  trouble.  But,  we  know,  that  it  is  wortli 
far  more  than  it  can  cost.  And  we  are  resolved,  who- 
ever else  may  be  removed,  that  we  will  not.  For  the 
boys  themselves,  we  have  but  small  concern.  A  half  a 
term  suffices,  with  the  rarest  and  most  insignificant  ex- 
ceptions, to  convince  them,  that  this  is  not  the  best, 
alone,  but  far  the  easiest  course.  If  a  new  punishment 
should  be  devised  for  Purgatory,  let  it  be  that  of  read- 
ing Cicero,  without  a  gleam  of  Cicero's  meaning,  with- 
out a  glimpse  of  Cicero's  language.  The  task  of  twist- 
ing ropes  of  sand  were  Paradise,  in  the  comparison : 
wretched  and  worthless  in  itself;  and  the  consign- 
ment of  immortal  minds  to  wretchedness  and  worth- 
lessness,  in  tricks  of  superficialness,  and  habits  of  un- 
reality. No :  let  a  boy  know  nothing  but  the  gram- 
mar of  the  language,  but  let  him  know  that  well. 
Let  him  have  mastered  all  that  he  has  undertaken, 
however  little  that  may  be.  The  knowledge  that 
he  has  will  then  be  certain  knowledge.  The  pro- 
gress that  he  has  made  will  be  triumphant  progress. 
He  will  feel  that  his  foot  stands  firm.  He  will  feel  that 
he  is  a  freeman  of  the  land.  He  will  have  lost  no  self- 
respect.  He  will  have  gained  that  surest  element  of 
victory,  the  consciousness  of  confidence.  Nor  shall  the 
dead  languages  alone,  suffice  oui'  Scholarship.  We 
wish  to  train  our  scholars  up  for  life,  and  influence,  and 
action.  We  train  them  up  for  present  things  and  pres- 
ent men.  We  will  bring  every  thing  to  bear,  to  this 
end,  on  their  fullest  and  most  perfect  mastery  of  that 
old,  unexhausted,  and   exhaustless,   "  well  of  English 

VOL.  IV. — 14 


210    THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BFELESTGTON  COLLEGE. 

tindefiled."     And,  to  tMs  end,  we  will  open  Europe  to 
tliem :  its  marts  of  commerce,  its  schools  of  learning,  its 
caLinets  and  courts,  witli  all  its  stores  of  science  and  of 
eloquence,  of  poetry  and  wit :    La  Place,  Bossuet,  Mo- 
liere,  Cervantes,  Schiller,  Tasso,  Dante.     So  far  from 
hindrances  to  Greek  and  Latin,  these  are  all  active,  living 
helps.     So  far  from  burying  English  letters,  in  their 
varied  pile,  they  but  enrich  and  set  them  off.    The  man 
that  knows  one  language  only,  knows  not  one.     He 
knows  his  own  the  best,  who  knows  most  thoroughly 
the  most.     The  school   of   language  is  the  school  of 
logic ;  the  palaestra  of  the  mind,  to  train  it  for  illus- 
trious struggles  and  immortal  triumphs.     Parallel  with 
these  bright  lines,  we  trace  upon  our  course,  the  track 
of  mathematical   investigation :  the   surest   source   of 
self-possession,  and  the  best  preserver  of  that  mental 
equilibrium,  without  which,  real  gi'eatness  cannot  be. 
We  hold  to  the  exactest  training  in  the  most  exact  of 
sciences ;  and  we  propose  to  make  them  practical,  in 
their  invaluable  application  to  the  uses  and  the  arts  of 
life.     We  would  have  nothing  dead.     Arithmetic,  and 
Algebra,  and  Geometry,  shall  take  feet,  and  traverse 
continents ;  or  wings  and  measure  orbs,  that  roll  in 
glory  through  the  sea  of  space.     Not  a  field  of  natui'e, 
that  shall  not  be  opened.     Not  a  faculty  of  observa- 
tion, that  shall  not  be  quickened.     Not  a  tree,  "  fi'om 
the  cedar  that  is  in  Lebanon,  even  unto  the  hyssop  that 
springeth  out  of  the  wall,"  that  shall  not  be  noted. 
Not  a  gem,  that  sparkles  in  the  sun,  or  a  shell,  that 
blushes  in  the  sea,  that  shall  not  be  classified  and  cata- 


THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUELINGTON  COLLEGE.     211 

logued.  In  a  judicious  plan,  industriously  pursued, 
there  is  a  time,  and  a  place,  for  every  thing.  The  parts 
of  knowledge  have  a  kindred  with  each  other.  The 
mind  is  as  exj)ansive  as  it  is  immortal.  It  "  grows,  by 
what  it  feeds  on."  And  its  true  stores  of  real  know- 
ledge are  no  more  felt  to  be  a  burden,  than  the  resist- 
ance of  the  ever  present,  ever  pressing,  atmosphere  re- 
tards the  sky- ward  eagle.  "  The  mathematical  sci- 
ences," says  Dr.  Barrow,  in  his  Sermon  on  the  calling  of 
a  Scholar,  "  how  pleasant  is  the  speculation  of  them  to 
the  mind !  How  useful  is  the  practice  to  common 
life  !  How  do  they  whet  and  exalt  the  mind  !  How 
do  they  inure  it  to  strict  reasoning  and  patient  medita- 
tion !  "  Natural  philosophy,  the  contemplation  of  this 
great  theatre,  or  visible  system,  presented  before  us ; 
observing  the  various  appearances  therein,  and  inquir- 
ing into  their  causes ;  reflecting  on  the  order,  connection, 
and  harmony,  of  things ;  considering  their  original 
source  and  their  final  desig-n :  how  doth  it  enlarare  our 
minds,  and  advance  them  above  vulgar  amusements, 
and  the  admiration  of  those  petty  things  about  which, 
men  cark  and  bicker !  How  may  it  serve  to  work  in 
us,^pious  affections  of  admiration,  reverence,  and  love, 
toward  our  great  Creator,  Whose  eternal  divinity  is 
dimly  seen.  Whose  glory  is  declared.  Whose  transcend- 
ent perfections,  and  attributes  of  immense  power,  wis- 
dom and  goodness,  are  conspicuously  displayed.  Whose 
particular  kindness  towards  us  men,  doth  evidently 
shine  in  those.  His  works  of  nature  ! "  "  The  perusal 
of  history,  how   pleasant   illumination   of  mind,  how 


212     THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUELESTGTON  COLLEGE. 

useful  direction  of  life,  liow  spriglitly  incentives  to  vir- 
tue, doth  it  afford  !  How  dotli  it  supply  tlie  room  of 
experience,  and  fiu'nisli  us  witli  prudence  at  tlie  expense 
of  otliers ;  informing  us  about  tlieir  ways  of  action,  and 
the  consequences  thereof,  by  examples,  without  our  own 
danger  or  trouble  !  How  may  it  instruct  and  encour- 
age us  in  piety,  while  therein  we  trace  the  paths  of 
God  in  men,  or  observe  the  methods  of  divine  Provi- 
dence ;  how  the  Lord  and  Judge  of  the  world,  in  due 
season,  protecteth,  prospereth,  blesseth,  rewardeth,  inno- 
cence and  integrity ;  how  He  crosseth,  defeateth,  blast- 
eth,  curseth,  punisheth,  iniquity  and  outrage :  managing 
things  with  admirable  temper  of  wisdom,  to  the  good 
of  mankind,  and  the  advancement  of  His  own  glory  !  " 
iv.  It  is  our  design,  at  Burlington  College,  to  bring 
up  PATEiOTS.  There  never  was  a  country  which  had 
such  need  of  this.  Never  a  country  had  such  trust,  for 
men,  from  God.  Never  a  country  held  it  with  such 
exposure,  and  at  such  risk.  There  is  no  justification  of 
the  right  of  universal  suffi^age,  but  in  the  access  to  uni- 
versal intelligence,  and  the  encouragement  of  universal 
virtue.  To  say,  "  all  men  are  equal,"  is  to  claim  for 
every  man  the  fitness  to  sustain  and  exercise  equality. 
To  suppose  it  possible  to  keep  them  so,  is  to  deny, 
alike,  the  lessons  of  history,  the  teachings  of  revelation, 
and  the  conclusions  of  experience.  In  every  govern- 
ment, there  must  be  governors.  In  all  communities 
there  will  be  leaders.  If  these  be  ignorant,  if  these  be 
venal,  if  these  be  vicious,  where  may  we  look  for 
safety,  how  can  we  hope  for  freedom  ?     As  oil  will 


THE   ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUELtNGTON  COLLEGE.   213 

swim  on  water,  so  the  intelligent  and  capable,  in  any 
nation,  will  secure  tlie  ascendant.  What  such  security, 
as  that  their  intelligence  be  a  wise  intelligence,  and 
theii"  capability  a  well-principled  capability  ?  We  ai'e 
but  infants,  yet.  We  have  not  rounded,  as  a  nation, 
yet,  our  century  of  years.  Brief  as  our  past  is,  it  is 
full  of  warnings  and  of  lessons.  No  warning  more 
alarming,  than  the  ascendency  of  party  spirit,  as  the 
test  of  strength,  and  passport  to  all  power.  'No  lesson 
more  emphatic,  than  the  necessity  of  a  return  to  the 
simpler  manners,  and  sterner  virtues,  of  the  first  and 
pm-est  days  of  the  republic.  What  hoj^e  of  this,  but 
in  the  training  of  our  children,  in  the  love  of  man, 
and  in  the  fear  of  God?  What  hope  that  he  can 
rule  a  nation,  who  has  never  ruled  himself?  What 
hope,  till  waters  learn  to  rise  above  their  source,  that 
public  manners  will  be  pure,  and  public  virtue  elevat- 
ed, while  hearths  are  unblessed  by  prayer,  and  altars 
are  desecrated  or  deserted  ?  Nothing  truer,  in  the  word 
of  perfect  and  unerring  truth,  or  written  on  the  face  of 
nations,  with  a  broader,  deeper,  track  of  blood  and  fire, 
than,  that,  while  "  righteousness  exalteth  a  nation,  sin 
is  a  reproach  to  any  people  !  " 

V.  Therefore,  as  that,  without  which  all  the  rest 
were  vain,  it  is  our  design,  at  Burlington  College,  to 
bring  up  Christl4.ns.  The  Word  of  God  is  daily  read, 
at  morning  and  at  evening.  At  morning,  at  noon,  and 
at  evening,  we  kneel  in  daily  prayers.  The  precept  of 
the  wise  man  is  continually  regarded,  "  Catechize  a 
child  in  the  way  he  should  go  ;  and  when  he  is  old,  he 


214     THE  ENDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  BUELINGTOIf  COLLEGE. 

will  not  depart  from  it."  The  means  of  grace  are 
constantly  employed.  The  hope  of  glory  is  stead- 
fastly proposed.  The  pastoral  feet  are  constantly  in 
motion,  in  our  sacred  fold.  The  pastoral  eye  is  con- 
stantly alert,  to  watch  and  guard  our  lambs.  The  pas- 
toral voice,  in  admonition  and  reproof,  in  encourage- 
ment and  consolation,  is  never  still.  And  every  yean- 
ling in  the  flock  is  made  to  feel,  in  constant  acts  and 
offices  of  love,  the  beatings  of  the  pastoral  heart.  We 
have  set  up  the  Cross  before  us,  as  the  magnet  of  our 
souls.  We  bend  before  the  Holy  One,  Who  died  upon 
it,  to  beseech  Him,  that  He  will  draw  us,  by  it,  to  Him- 
self. It  is  oui"  constant  "  heart's  desire  and  prayer  to 
God  " — and  He  has  promised  both  to  hear  and  answer 
it — that  "  om'  sons  may  grow  up  as  the  young  plants, 
and  that  our  daughters  may  be  as  the  polished  corners 
of  the  temple ; "  and,  that,  serving  Him  "  mthout  fear,  in 
holiness  and  righteousness,  before  Him,  all  the  days  of 
our  life,"  we  may  be  "  a  people  prepared  for  the  Lord." 


L 

SONS  OF  WASHINGTON. 

*THE  FIRST  FOURTH  OF  JULY  ORATION  AT  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 

AisrisnvERSARY  celebrations  are  instinctive  to  us  in 
our  moral,  social,  and  immortal  nature.  Tliey  are  of  the 
heart.  They  are  heart-links.  They  are  heart-links,  be- 
tween the  future  and  the  past.  Thetj  are  of  the  heart. 
In  point  of  fact,  one  day  is  just  like  every  other ;  so  many 
hours,  so  many  minutes,  so  many  seconds.  Arithmetic, 
chronometry,  chronology,  see  just  this ;  and  no  more. 
But,  now,  the  heart  comes  in.  This  day,  a  year  ago, 
made  two  hearts  one.  This  day,  a  year  ago,  a  first- 
born smiled.  This  day,  a  year  ago,  a  mother  died. 
What  joys,  what  sorrows,  cluster  round  it,  now !  And, 
in  the  calendar,  which  the  true  heart  preserves,  among 
its  deepest  folds,  what  light,  what  gloom,  invests  this 
charmed  day !  It  is  the  proof,  this  heart-world,  that 
there  is  a  soul  in  man ;  its  triumph  over  time  and  sense, 
its  pledge  of  immortality  and  heaven.  They  are  heart- 
Ihiks.  Man  was  not  made  to  be  alone.  His  heart  is 
social.     It  seeks  other  hearts ;  and  lives  in  them,  and 

*  A.  D.  1847. 


216  SONS    OF   WASHINGTON. 

they  in  it.  And,  wlien  a  common  joy  or  common  sorrow 
falls  on  kindred  hearts — kindred  in  blood,  in  country, 
or  in  faitli — it  melts  tliem  all,  and  melts  them  into  one. 
And,  then,  the  day,  that  makes  it  annual,  takes  its  colour 
to  them  all,  and  sways  them  to  its  tone.  As,  to  some 
fated  lands,  the  memory  of  an  earthquake  hangs  the 
sky  with  annual  sack-cloth ;  or,  as  the  day  that  gave  us 
Washington  smiles  through  the  snows  of  February, 
and  would  make  for  patriot  hearts,  a  tropic  at  the 
poles.  And  iliey  are  hearirlinks  of  the  future  with  the 
past.  Man  lives  between  the  two  ;  half  memory,  half 
hope.  Confiding  in  his  immortality,  he  rejoices  at  his 
seventieth  birth-day,  though  he  knows  how  few  more 
can  remain  to  him.  And,  when  centennials  are  counted, 
kindles  at  the  reckoning,  as  though  conscious,  that 
to  count  by  centuries,  is  to  claim  kin  with  Godhead. 

Nor,  are  these  annual  days  merely  instinctive  with 
our  kind.  They  are  divinely  sealed  and  sanctified. 
When  He  Who  made  us,  found  us  fallen  from  our  first 
nature,  and  fii'st  state,  and  graciously  revealed  His 
purpose,  to  restore  us,  through  the  Incarnation  of  His 
Son,  He  did  not  make,  to  re-construct  the  ruin,  new 
measures  and  new  means ;  but  used  the  natural  instincts, 
and  appealed  to  all  the  natural  sjnnpathies,  and  made 
"  the  cords  of  a  man"  magnetic,  that  He  might  draw  us 
so  to  Him.  Hence,  in  the  ancient  dispensation,  the  free 
use  of  annual  days,  and  sacred  anniversaries,  as  beacon 
lights  of  time,  memorials  of  the  past,  and  pledges  for  the 
future.  Hence,  in  the  new  and  better  covenant,  the 
Paschal  of  a  nation  made  the  Easter  of  mankind ;  and 


SONS    OF   WASHINGTON.  217 

Jewish  Pentecost,  the  Christian  Whitsuntide  :  the  for- 
mer, the  dawning  and  the  resurrection  of  "  a  better 
hope  ",  which  shoukl  not  die,  but  brighten  on  for  ever- 
more ;  the  latter,  that  outpouring  of  the  Spirit,  which 
should  fill  the  world,  and  make  it  pregnant  with  a  new 
and  nobler  birth,  the  sons  of  God,  and  heirs  of  His  eter- 
nal kingdom. 

Of  a  practice,  which  is  at  once  instinctive  with  man- 
kind, and  sanctioned  and  approved  of  G  od,  it  need  not 
be  said,  that  it  is  wise  and  good ;  and,  made  an  instru- 
ment, through  all  the  ages  of  the  world,  in  the  divine 
economy,  for  saving  and  restoring  man,  it  justly  has  a 
place,  as  in  the  Holy  Church,  so  in  her  plans  for  train- 
ing children  up  to  God.  We  use  it  freely  here.  The 
Christmas  feast,  the  feast  of  Easter,  the  feast  of  Whit- 
sunday, the  feast  of  the  Ascension,  the  feast  of  Trinity, 
are  kept  by  us,  as,  in  the  better  ages.  Christian  men 
were  wont  to  keep  them ;  a  chastened  and  subdued 
domestic  joy,  elevated  and  hallowed  by  solemn  prayers, 
and  by  the  Eucharistic  banquet :  while,  on  that  one 
black  day,  which  shrouded  heaven  mth  gloom,  and 
brought  the  dead  out  from  their  graves,  in  sympathy 
with  God  incarnate,  we  humble  ourselves  before  His 
Cross,  and  cry,  with  deeper  and  more  penitential  shame 
and  woe.  Unclean,  unclean  !  Nor,  do  we  lose,  in  being 
Christians,  the  sympathies  of  country  and  of  kind. 
Rather,  we  dignify  and  sanctify  them,  by  striving  to  be 
Christian  in  them  all :  a  Christian  man,  the  noblest  form 
of  man ;  a  Christian  patriot,  the  only  true  and  real 
patriot.     As  Paul,  though  the  Apostle  of  the  Gentile 


218  SONS    OF   WASHINGTON. 

world,  remembered  still  his  native  Tarsus,  and  his  own 
free  bii'th;  and,  indignantly  rejecting  the  imputation, 
that  he  was  "  that  Egyptian,"  described  himself,  with 
a  true  man's  spiiit,  as  "  a  citizen  of  no  mean  city ;  "  and, 
to  the  chief  captain,  at  the  best  a  freed-man,  doubtful 
of  his  being  a  Roman,  replied,  in  burning  words,  "  I 
was  free  born :  "  so,  here,  in  this,  our  nursery  for  patriot 
Christians,  we  make  our  annual  claim,  to  be  the  fellow- 
countrymen  of  Washington,  and  freemen  of  the  United 
States — we  celebrate,  as  secular  holidays,  in  Burlington 
College,  the  birth-day  of  the  Father  of  his  country,  and 
the  bii'th-day  of  American  independence. 

My  childi^en,  I  rejoice  to  meet  you  on  this  day.  I 
rejoice  to  see  your  young  hearts  kindling  with  the  hour. 
I  rejoice  to  see,  with  what  enthusiastic  fervour,  you 
have  hailed  the  unfolding  of  that  starry  flag,  which,  on 
this  day,  one  and  seventy  years  ago,  first  wooed  the 
winds,  and  glistened  in  the  light  of  heaven.  I  rejoice 
to  see  the  patriotic  blood  of  fathers'  fathers,  and  theh* 
fathers,  swelling  in  your  veins,  and  beaming  from  your 
eyes.  The  love  of  country  does  not  circumscribe  the 
love  of  man.  As  the  best  son,  best  husband,  and  best 
father  is  always  the  best  neighbour  and  best  friend ;  so 
will  the  truest  patriot  be  ever  found  the  most  enlarged 
philanthropist.  Unless  the  central  fires  are  all  a-glow, 
there  must  be  cold  at  the  extremities.  And  he,  whose 
bosom  does  not  bum,  at  the  bare  mention  of  the  name 
of  country  and  of  home,  is  but  a  walking  clod,  and  none 
need  trust  him  for  a  man.  Cherish,  my  children,  in 
your  heart  of  hearts,  these  true  and  noble  sentiments. 
• 


SONS    OF   WASHINGTON.  219 

Let  tlie  aim  of  your  young  spirits  be,  tlie  service  of 
your  country  and  your  God.  Be  ever  ready,  as  your 
fathers  were,  to  yield  your  lives,  your  fortunes,  and 
your  sacred  honour,  at  Ler  call.  Say,  of  your  own 
Jerusalem,  mth  that  old  patriot  Mng,  "  If  I  forget  thee, 
let  my  right  hand  forget  her  cunning !  "  And  pray, 
with  him,  in  all  yom*  prayers,  "  Peace  be  within  thy 
walls,  and  plenteousness  within  thy  palaces  !  " 

I  deem  it  well,  dear  children,  on  this,  the  first  time, 
that  we  celebrate  together,  this,  now,  time-honoured 
day,  to  speak  a  few  words  to  you,  of  my  aims  and  hopes, 
for  Burlington  College,  in  its  national  relations.  I  need 
not  tell  you,  what  you  know  so  well,  that  it  has  its 
being,  as  an  institution  of  the  Church.  As  other  than 
a  Church  College,  to  be  imbued  with  any  other  than 
Church  influences,  to  propose  any  other  than  Church 
training,  it  would  have  had  no  claim  on  me.  The  land 
is  crowned  with  noble  institutions,  which  propose  to 
educate  our  youth.  This  State  bears  two,  that  well 
deserve  their  place,  among  the  foremost  of  them  all. 
But,  if  I  rightly  understand  the  Church,  one  of  her 
clearest  and  most  sacred  duties  is  the  training  of  the 
young.  And,  if  I  rightly  read  the  course  of  human 
things,  she  has  not  done,  she  scarcely  has  begun  to  do, 
her  work,  in  that  behalf  I  know,  that,  at  such  words 
as  these,  a  prejudice  arises.  I  know,  that  the  name, 
Church,  in  many  minds,  associates  itself  with  narrowness 
and  bigotry.  I  know,  that  many  charge  the  Chirrch 
with  want  of  interest  in  humanity.  The  Church,  that 
were  so  justly  charged,  were  not  the  Church  of  Jesus 


220  SOIfS    OF   WASHINGTON. 

Christ.  He  gave  Himself  foe  all:  and  tlie  true 
Churcli  approves  herself,  as  true,  to  Him,  and  to  herself, 
by  doing,  as  He  did ;  by  sparing  nothing,  though  it 
were  her  own  heart's  blood,  that  she  may  win  the 
world  to  hapj)iness,  and  Him.  The  fallacy  lies  here. 
Men  think,  that,  when  we  urge  the  Chui'ch,  we  urge  it 
as  an  end.  But  we  do  no  such  thing.  The  Church  is 
not  an  end.  The  Cross  was  not  an  end.  They  both 
are  means;  God's  means,  for  man's  redemption  and 
renewal.  When  we  preach  the  Cross,  it  is  that  all  men 
may  be  saved.  When  we  set  forth  the  Church,  it  is 
that  all  men  may  be  renewed.  The  Churcli  is  for  this 
world,  as  tvell  as  for  the  next.  It  is  to  make  good  chil- 
dren. It  is  to  make  good  husbands.  It  is  to  make  good 
wives.  It  is  to  make  good  parents.  It  is  to  make  good 
neighbours.  It  is  to  make  good  citizens.  It  is  to  make 
good  sailors.  It  is  to  make  good  soldiers.  It  is  to 
make  good  rulers.  It  is  to  make  good  men  and 
women;  in  whatever  state,  whatever  rank,  whatever 
place,  whatever  condition.  In  one  word,  it  is  to  perfect 
saints.  The  Church  is  benevolent.  It  cares  for  the  poor, 
it  cares  for  the  sick,  it  cares  for  the  stranger,  it  cares  for 
the  widow,  it  cares  for  the  orphan.  Tlie  Church  is 
elevating.  It  encourages  learning.  It  encom-ages  the 
arts.  It  encourages  commerce.  It  encourages  civiliza- 
tion. It  encourages  refinement.  The  Church  is  social. 
It  blesses  the  marriage  bond.  It  blesses  the  cradle.  It 
blesses  the  hearth.  It  blesses  the  bed.  It  blesses  the 
shop.  It  blesses  the  field.  It  blesses  the  ships.  It  blesses 
the  country.     It  blesses  the  city.     It  blesses  the  world. 


SONS    OF   WASHINGTON.  221 

Tlie  Church  is  conservative.    It  teaclies  obedience  to  peo- 
ple.  It  teaclies  justice  to  magistrates.    It  teaches  humaa- 
ity  to  rulers.     It  teaclies  peace  to  nations.      It  teaches 
Christianity  to  the  world.    I  claim  for  a  Church  institu- 
tion, that,  so  far  fi^om  encouraging  a  want  of  sympathy, 
with  any  human  thing,  it  comprehends  them  all,  within 
its  wide  and  warm  embrace.    I  claim  for  Burlington  Col- 
lege, as  it  shall  be  an  institution  of  the  Church,  that, 
mth  God  to  bless  it,  it  shall  be  a  source  ^nd  centre  of 
all  American,  and  of  all  Christian,  sympathies.     That, 
seated  as  it  is,  between  the  North  and  the  South,  and 
having  the  confidence  of  both,  it  shall  mediate  between 
the  two,  and  bring  them  nearer  to  each  other.     That, 
looking,  as  it  does,  to  the  East  and  to  the  West,  and 
sharing  the  patronage  of  both,  it  shall  combine  the  two, 
and  blend  them  sweetly  into  one.     That,  standing  as  it 
does,  on  the    high  road    from  everywhere,  to   every- 
where, it  shall  lift  up,  for  every  eye  and  every  heart, 
the  banner  of  the  blessed  Cross  of  Jesus  Christ ;  that 
he  who  runs  may  read  its  gracious  legend,  ''  Glory  be 
to  God  on  high,  and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  to  men." 
I  wish  it  to  stand  no  longer,  than  its  best  exertions 
shall  be  made  for  every  real  interest  of  man.     I  desire 
God  to  bless  it  no  longer,  than  it  shall  be  true  to  our 
whole  country,  and  true  to  all  mankind.     I  shall  count 
him  a  recreant  son,  whatever  his  professions  for  the 
Church  may  be,  who  does  not  hold  his  talents,  his 
attainments,  his  possessions,  his  influence,  his    efforts, 
his  religion,  his  whole  self,  a  sacred  trust,  to  glorify  the 
Lord,  the  giver,  in  doing  good  to  men.  His  children.     I 


222  SONS    OF   WASHINGTON. 

scorn  the  shield,  however  proud  its  blazonry  may 
be,  which  does  not  bear  the  blessed  scroll  to  every 
wind  of  heaven :  Pro  ecclesia,  pro  patria^  pro  genere 
Tiumano — for  the  chuech,  the  countey,  and  all  hu- 
man KIND. 

Dear  children,  these  are  deeds,  of  which  I  speak,  not 
words.  They  will  cost  you  much.  Cost  you  time. 
Cost  you  effort.  Cost  you  money.  Cost  you,  what 
men  grudge  the  most  to  give,  self-denial  and  self-sacri- 
fice. Nothing  is  easier  than  to  make  an  outward  showr. 
Nothing  is  easier  than  to  use  many  words.  Nothing  is 
easier  than  to  build  the  tombs  of  the  Prophets,  and 
garnish  the  sepulchres  of  the  righteous.  Nothing  is 
easier  than  to  unfold  the  stars  and  stripes ;  and  make  a 
noise  with  drums  and  guns ;  and  cry,  "  Hurrah  for  In- 
dependence !  "  And  yet,  all  this  may  be  mere  Phari- 
saism. All  this  may  come  fi'om  slavish  souls.  All  this 
may  hide  a  traitor's  heart.  Not  such  would  I  have  you, 
my  first-born  sons,  the  first  fruits  of  this  College.  I 
would  have  you  Christians,  patriots,  men.  I  would 
have  you  simple  in  your  manners,  fr-ugal  in  your  speech, 
right  and  resolved  in  your  deeds.  I  would  have  you 
think,  and  act,  and  pray.  He  is  no  man,  who  does  not 
think,  and  act,  and  pray.  Think,  of  his  glorious  calling, 
and  his  high  responsibilities.  Act,  as  becomes  his 
*  estimate  of  both.  And  pray,  that  He  Avho  called  him 
to  the  one,  and  demands  from  him  the  other,  will 
strengthen  him  for  all.  Such  was  Geoege  Washing- 
ton, the  human  father  of  his  country ;  the  one  great 
name,  single  and  unapproached,  in  all  the  tides  of  time. 


SONS    OF   WASHINGTON.  223 

Be  sucli  as  lie  was.  Simple ;  single-liearted ;  just ; 
moderate ;  self-respecting,  and  yet,  self-denying ;  pure  ; 
generous ;  patriotic ;  philanthropic ;  pious.  Be  men  of 
tliought.  Be  men  of  acts.  Be  men  of  prayer.  Be  sons 
OF  Washington  ! 


n. 

AMERICA  AND  GREAT  BRITAIN. 

*  THE  SECOND  FOURTH  OF  JULY  ADDRESS  AT  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 

)  The  great  gift  of  God  to  man  is  peace.  Tlie  angels 
sang  it,  wlien  they  brought  from  heaven  the  welcome 
message  of  a  Saviour  born :  "  Glory  be  to  God  on  high, 
and,  on  earth,  peace."  And,  when  the  Saviour  was 
about  to  go  again  to  heaven.  His  legacy  to  His  disci- 
ples, and,  through  them,  to  us,  was  still  the  same : 
"  Peace  I  leave  with  you ;  My  peace  I  give  unto  you." 
The  gifts  of  God  to  man  are  sacred  trusts.  They  are 
not  his  alone.  He  holds  them  for  his  kind ;  and  must 
account  for  them  to  God.  Of  nothing  is  this  timer,  than 
of  peace.  Peace  is  a  sacred  thing.  It  is  the  halcyon 
weather  of  the  heart ;  when  all  the  virtues  brood,  and 
all  the  charities  are  teeming  with  a  warmer  and  more 
genial  life.  The  Sabbath-morning  of  Creation  was  not 
serener  in  its  solemn  hush ;  nor  Plato's  loveliest  dream, 
the  Music  of  the  Spheres,  more  exquisite  in  harmony. 
Perfect,  in  patriotism,  as  in  piety,  was  that  prayer  of 
Royal  David,  for  the  people,  and  the  country  of  his 
love  :  "  Pray  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem  !  "     And,  love- 

*  A.  D.  1848. 


AMERICA   AND    GREAT   BEITACST.  225 

liest  of  tlie  strains  of  prayer,  and  fittest  for  an  angel's 
voice,  is  that,  wliicli  we  have  left  out  from  our  fathers' 
Litui'gy,  "  Give  peace,  in  our  time,  O  Lord ;  because 
there  is  none  other  that  fighteth  for  us,  but  only  Thou, 
O  God  !  "  I  have  not  forgotten,  that  the  great  public 
document,*  which  has  just  been  read  before  us,  as  the 
manner  of  this  celebration  is,  was  the  solemn  prelude 
of  a  long  and  arduous  war,  between  two  nations  ;  who, 
in  the  sight  of  God,  stood  as  a  mother  and  her  child. 
Nor,  that,  in  thirty  years,  they  were  again  engaged 
in  war.  Nor,  that,  since  then,  the  danger,  once  and 
again,  has  been  most  imminent,  that  they  must  bathe 
themselves  in  blood.  It  is  rather  because  these  things 
have  been  so,  that  I  have  sj)oken  thus.  Because,  as 
one  that  has  to  do  with  young  and  tender  minds,  I 
would  be  careful  for  their  first  impressions.  Because, 
in  settling,  as  the  usage  of  this  College,  to  be  kept,  I 
trust,  to  "  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time,"  the  ob- 
servance of  this  birth-day  of  our  nation,  I  would  disa- 
vow, now  and  forever,  for  myself,  for  you,  my  friends, 
and  for  these  children,  the  faintest  shadow  of  a  thought, 
that  ifc  involves  the  slightest  remnant  of  a  hostile  feel- 
ing, toward  that  great  nation,  from  whose  womb  we 
sprung,  and  at  whose  bursting  breasts,  our  fathers  all 
were  nursed.  That,  so  far  from  that,  a  fit  and  proper 
juse  of  this,  our  nation's  holiday,  is  the  renewal  of  the 
vows  of  love,  which  brothers  owe  to  brothers.  That, 
having  fought  oiu*  way  to  man's  estate,  and  won  the 

*  The  Declaration  of  Independence  had  been  read  by  Cornelius  E.  Swope, 
A.  B.,  an  Assistant  Classical  Teacher. 

VOL.  IV. — 15 


226  AMEEICA   AND    GEEAT   BEITAIN". 

prize,  for  wMch  we  fouglit,  and  made  it  glorious  before 
men  and  angels,  we  can  well  afford  to  sliake  liands,  and 
be  friends ;  and  none  the  less,  but  some  the  more,  that 
we  have  quarrelled  twice  and  fought  it  out.*  That, 
having  tried  the  issues  of  the  fight,  and  tasted  all  its 
woes,  our  thoughts  are  turned  to  peace ;  as  God's  great 
gift  to  us,  and  our  great  trust  for  man.  That,  so  God 
help  us,  we  will  fight  no  more ;  and,  least  of  all,  with 
our  own  brethren  of  the  blood ;  but,  will  set  forth  to 
all  mankind,  as  truths,  which  freemen  only  feel,  that, 
the  two  nations  of  the  world,  who  know  what  fi'eedom 
is,  and  how  to  use  it,  are  too  great  to  fight ;  that, 
neither  can  require  of  either,  what  the  other  should  not 
give  ;  that,  where  we  cannot  quite  agree,  we  can  agree 
to  disagree  ;  that,  we*  have  common  duties,  to  perform ; 
a  common  trust,  for  human  kind,  to  execute  ;  a  common 
source,  ft-om  which  our  hearts  all  fill  their  cisterns,  with 
the  same  red  blood ;  a  common  language,  which  our 
mother's  voice  first  made  familiar  to  our  ears  in  lulla- 
bies ;  in  which  we  wooed  and  won  our  wives ;  in  which 
our  childi^en  lisped  and  prattled  nature's  loveliest  melo- 
dies to  all  our  hearts ;  a  common  stock  of  learning  and 
of  letters,  such  as  all  the  world  beside  has  not  to  show ; 
and,  best  and  dearest  of  them  all,  a  common  Church,  a 
common  altar,  and  the  common  prayers.  Not,  that 
the  acts  and  efforts  of  our  patriot  fathers  shall  be  disa- 
vowed, or  disregarded.  Not,  that  the  trials  and  the 
toils,  the  struggles  and  the  sacrifices,  of  the  men  of 
seventy-six,  can  ever  cease  to  be  our  heritage  and  glory. 

*  Irae  amantium,  amoris  redintegratio. 


AMERICA  AND    GEEAT   BRITAIN.  227 

Not,  tliat  tlie  memory  of  Lexington  and  Bunker  Hill, 
of  Monmouth,  Princeton,  Trenton,  ever  can  grow  pale. 
But,  that,  things  done  are  finished ;  that  by-gones 
should  be  by-gones ;  that  a  fight,  fought  through,  is 
done ;  that  the  only  justifiable  end  of  war,  is  true  and 
lasting  peace ;  that  life  was  made  for  love ;  that  nations 
have  a  mission  and  a  trust ;  that  Great  Britain  and 
America  are  set,  for  the  two  hemispheres,  to  be  the  j^- 
glemen  of  freedom,  and  the  standard-bearers  of  the 
Cross. 

These  obvious  and  most  enviable  truths,  God,  by 
His  gracious  providence,  is  making  real  in  our  time. 
The  ready  heart  and.  oj)en  hand,  which  poured  the  gold- 
en treasures  of  our  garners  on  the  hearths  of  starving 
Ireland,  with  an  eagerness,  which  gain  has  never 
prompted,  an  impetuosity  which  commerce  never  felt, 
touched  all  the  tenderest  places  in  the  British  heart ; 
and,  when  the  threatened  demonstration  of  the  Chartists, 
but  the  other  day,  "  frighted  the  isle  from  its  pro- 
priety," the  pulseless  stillness,  in  which  an  anxious  na- 
tion waited,  on  our  Western  strand,  to  hear  the  issue, 
and  the  manly  burst  of  joyful  gladness  which  welled 
up  to  God,  to  own  His  mercy,  to  the  nation,  and  the 
Church,  in  which  our  fathers  worshipped  and  were  nur- 
tured, have  stirred  the  truest  and  the  deepest  pulses  of 
the  heart  of  England ;  and  knit  her  to  us,  with  a  bond 
of  cordial,  and  I  trust,  imperishable  love.  We  may 
well  rejoice,  that  these  things  are.  The  world  is  stirred, 
and  tossed,  and  agitated,  like  a  seething  caldron.  An 
hour  uptmms  a  throne.  Another,  and  the^  new  republic 


228  AMEEICA   AND    GEEAT   BEITAm. 

is  the   crater  of  a  new  volcano.     Another,   and  per- 
haps a  throne  is  cast  np,  with  its  fierce  and  fiery  flood. 
No  man  can  say,  this  day,  what  nation  on  the  Continent 
of  Europe  is  not  involved  in  civil  war.     No  man  can 
say,  what  government  is  not  the  creature  and  the  prey 
of  a  mad  mob.     No  man  can  say,  what  instincts  of  na- 
ture  are   desecrated,  what  charities  of  life  are  tram- 
pled under  foot,  what  holiest  places  are  profaned.     It 
seems  the  trial-hour  of  Europe  ;  and  it  may  be,  of  the 
world.     In  human  view,  the  salient  points  of  hope,  for 
Truth  and  Freedom,    and  for  Christianity  as  charged 
with   both    and  indispensable  to  their  existence,  are, 
now,  America  and  England.     If  God  keep  us  at  peace, 
hold  us  erect  in  our   position  with   the  nations,  and 
make  us  faithful  to  our  trust  for  man,  the  issue,  with 
His  blessing,  is  an  issue  fall  of  hoj)e.     A  new  order  of 
things  may  be  established,  on  a  better  basis,  and  to 
\  better  purposes.     Freedom  secured  by  Law.     Order  en- 
I  forced  by  Love.     Patriotism  purified  by  Eeligion.     The 
'World  subjected  to  the  Cross.     Time  made  the  fore- 
taste of  immortality.     That  it  may  be  so,  let  us  unite 
our  prayers.     That  it  may  be  so,  let  us  combine  our  ef 
forts.     Let  us  devote  the  day  to  thoughts  and  offices  of 
love.     Let  us  devote  our  lives  to  acts  and  influences  of 
peace.     And,  for  ourselves,  and  for  our  brothers  of  the 
blood,  and  in  the  faith,  let  the  one  strife  hereafter 
ever  be,  which  shall  do  most  to  realize  the  angel's 
hymn,  and  bring  heaven  down  to  earth :  "  Glory  be  to 
God  on  high,  and  on  earth,  peace,  good-will  to  men  !  " 
A  Poet  and  a  Painter  of  our  own,  a  Poet  and 


AMERICA   AND    GEEAT   BEITAI^-.  229 

a  Painter  for  all  time,  Washington  Allston,  in  years, 
now  long  gone  by,  uttered  sucli  thoughts  and  sentiments 
as  these,  in  words,  which  cannot  die.  His  noble  lyric, 
"  England  and  America,"  among  the  very  noblest  of 
its  name,  sounds,  like  a  trumpet,  through  all  time,  and 
thrills  through  every  heart. 

Though  ages  long  have  past, 

Since  our  fathers  left  their  home, 
Their  pilot,  in  the  blast, 

O'er  untravelled  seas  to  roam, 
Yet  lives  the  blood  of  England  in  our  veins ; 
And  shall  we  not  proclaim 
That  blood  of  honest  fame ; 
Which  no  tyranny  can  tame, 

By  its  chains  ? 

While  the  language  free  and  bold, 
Which  the  bard  of  Avon  sung. 
In  which  our  Milton  told 

How  the  vault  of  Heaven  rung. 
When  Satan,  blasted,  fell  with  all  his  host ; 
While  these  with  reverence  meet. 
Ten  thousand  echoes  greet. 
And,  from  rock  to  rock,  repeat, 
Round  our  coast : 

While  the  manners,  while  the  arts. 

That  mould  a  nation's  soul. 
Still  cling  around  our  hearts. 
Between,  let  ocean  roll, 
Our  joint  communion  breaking  with  the  sun; 
Yet,  still,  from  either  beach, 
The  voice  of  blood  shall  reach, 
More  audible  than  speech, 

We  are  one. 


230  AMEEICA   AND    GEEAT   BEITAIN. 

And  now,  tMs  day,  as  from  anotlier  generation, 
tliere  conies  to  me,  by  tlie  last  steamer,  an  eclio  to  this 
glorious  trumpet-rally  of  tlie  nations.  A  dear  young 
friend,*  the  son  of  one  of  the  best  friends  I  ever  had, 
commended  by  my  letters  to  the  true  English  hearts, 
who  have  enshrined  me  in  their  love,  visiting  at  Al- 
bury,  the  delightful  residence  of  Martin  Farquhar  Tup- 
per,  the  author  of  "  Proverbial  Philosophy,"  an  English 
gentleman,  in  every  highest  sense,  and  a  true  Christian 
Poet,  sends  me  a  ballad,  written  by  Mr.  Tupper,  in 
honour  of  the  visit ;  with  the  expression  of  his  msh, 
that  I  will  make  it  public,  in  America.  Can  I  better 
do  it  than,  here,  with  you,  my  children,  and  my  friends  ? 
You  will  say,  with  me,  that,  had  he  known  oui*  gather- 
ing, he  could  not  have  fitted  an  apter  shaft,  nor  given  it 
happier  aim.  It  is  dated,  "  Albury,  June  8, 1848 ; "  and 
is  entitled, 

A  LOVING  BALLAD  TO  BROTHER  JONATHAN; 

FEOM  MARTIN  FAEQUHAR  TUPPER. 

Ho,  brother,  I'm  a  Britisher, 

A  chip  of  heart  of  oak, 
That  wouldn't  warp  or  swerve  or  stir, 

From  what  I  thought  or  spoke : 
And  you,  a  blunt  and  honest  man, 

Straight-forward,  kind  and  true  ; 
I  tell  you,  Brother  Jonathan, 

That  you're  a  Briton  too  ! 

*  George  Henry  Warren,  travelling  with  his  brother,  Stephen  E.  Warren ; 
both  of  Troy,  N.  Y.  They  are  the  sons  of  Nathan  Warren,  who  was  the  brother 
of  Esaiag  and  Stephen ;  the  sons  of  Eliakim  and  Phebe  Warren.  Five  names 
have  never  stood  for  more  of  purity  and  piety  and  charity ;  nor  has  the  Church 
had  truer  children.     They  are  now  all  at  rest ;  aad  their  memory  is  blessed. 


AMEEICA   AND    GEEAT   BEITAIN.  231 

I  know  your  heart,  an  open  heart, 

I  read  your  mind  and  will ; 
A  greyhound  ever  on  the  start, 

To  run  for  honour,  still : 
And,  shrewd  to  scheme  a  likely  plan, 

And,  stout  to  see  it  done ; 
I  tell  you,  Brother  Jonathan, 

That  you  and  I  are  one. 

There  may  be  jealousies  and  strife. 

For  men  have  selfish  ends  ; 
But  petty  quarrels  ginger  life. 

And  help  to  season  friends  ; 
And  Pundits,  who,  with  solemn  scan, 

Judge  humans  most  aright. 
Decide  it,  testy  Jonathan, 

That  brothers  always  fight. 

Two  fledgeling  sparrows  in  one  nest. 

Will  chirp  about  a  worm  ; 
Then  how  should  eaglets  meekly  rest, 

The  nurslings  of  the  storm  ? 
No,  while  their  rustled  pinions  fan, 

The  eyrie's  downy  side, 
Like  you  and  me,  my  Jonathan, 

It's  all  for  love  and  pride. 

"  God  save  the  Queen  "  delights  you  still. 

And  "  British  Grenadiers  ;  " 
The  good  old  strains  your  heart-strings  thrill, 

And  hold  you  by  both  ears  : 
And  we — 0,  hate  us,  if  you  can. 

For  we  are  proud  of  you, — 
We  like  you.  Brother  Jonathan, 

And  "  Yankee  Doodle,"  too. 


232  AMERICA   AND   GEEAT   BEITAIN^. 

There's  nothing  foreign  in  your  face, 

Nor  strange  upon  your  tongue  ; 
You  come  not  of  another  race, 

From  baser  lineage  sprung : 
No,  brother,  though  away  you  ran, 

As  truant  boys  will  do. 
Still,  true  it  is,  young  Jonathan, 

My  fathers  fathered  you. 

Time  was — it  was  not  long  ago — 

Your  grandsires  went  with  mine. 
To  battle  traitors,  blow  for  blow. 

For  England's  royal  line  : 
Or  tripped  to  court,  to  kiss  Queen  Anne, 

Or  worship  royal  Bess  : 
And  you  and  I,  good  Jonathan, 

Went  with  them  then,  I  guess. 

Together,  both — 'twas  long  ago — 

Among  the  Roses,  fought ; 
Or  charging  fierce,  the  Paynim  foe, 

Did  all  knight-ei'rants  ought : 
As  Cavalier  or  Puritan, 

Together  prayed  or  swore  ; 
For  John's  own  brother,  Jonathan, 

Was  simple  John,  of  yore. 

There  lived  a  man,  a  man  of  men, 

A  king  on  fancy's  throne ; 
We  ne'er  shall  see  his  like  again. 

The  globe  is  all  his  own : 
And  if  we  claim  him  of  our  clan, 

He  half  belongs  to  you  ; 
For  Shakspeare,  happy  Jonathan, 

Is  yours,  and  ours,  too. 


AJIERICA   AND    GEE  AT   BEITAIN.  233 

There  was  another  glorious  name, 

A  poet  for  all  time, 
Who  gained  "  the  douHe-first "  of  fame, 

The  beautiful,  sublime ; 
And,  let  us  hide  him  as  we  can, 

More  miserly  than  pelf, 
Our  Yankee  brother,  Jonathan, 

Cries  "  halves  !  "  in  Milton's  self. 

"Well,  well ;  and  every  praise  of  old, 

That  makes  us  famous  still ; 
You  would  be  just,  and  may  be  bold, 

To  share  it,  if  you  will ; 
Since  England's  glory  first  began, 

Till — just  the  other  day. 
The  half  is  yours — but  Jonathan, — 

Why  did  you  run  away  ? 

Oh,  brother,  could  we  both  be  one, 

In  nation  and  in  name, 
How  gladly  would  the  very  sun 

Lie  basking  in  our  fame  ! 
In  either  world,  to  lead  the  van, 

And  "  go  ahead,"  for  good  ; 
While  each,  to  John  and  Jonathan, 

Yields  tribute — gratitude. 

Add  but  your  stripes  and  golden  stars. 

To  our  St.  George's  Cross  ; 
And  never  dream  of  mutual  wars. 

Two  dunces'  mutual  loss  : 
Let  us  two  bless,  when  others  ban, 

And  love  when  others  hate  ; 
And  so,  my  cordial  Jonathan, 

We'll  fit, — I  calculate. 


234  AMEEICA   AND    GEEAT   BEITAIN. 

What  more  ?     I  touch  not  holier  strings, 

A  loftier  strain  to  win  ; 
Nor  glance  at  prophets,  priests  and  kings, 

Or  heavenly  kith  and  kin  : 
As  friend  with  friend,  and  man  with  man, 

O,  let  our  hearts  be  thus — 
As  David's  love  to  Jonathan, 
Be  Jonathan's  to  us  ! 


III. 


THE  MEN   TO   MAKE   A   STATE:    THEIR 
MAKING  AND  THEIR  MARKS. 

*  THE  THIRD  FOURTH  OF  JULY  ORATION  AT  BURLINGTON"  COLLEGE. 

It  is  only  God,  wlio  sees,  and  can  declare,  "  tlie  end, 
from  the  beginning."  With  Him,  tlie  end  is  in  the  be- 
ginning :  not  as  the  oak  is  in  the  acorn ;  but,  in  its  full 
growth,  with  all  its  foliage,  and  with  all  its  fruits. 
Shaksj)eare,  that  greatest  master  of  humanity,  as  true 
in  logic,  as  he  is  sublime  in  poetry,  has  well  expressed 
the  nearest  that  man  comes,  in  this  respect,  to  God ;  as 
made  with  "  large  discourse,  looking  before,  and  after." 
With  God,  there  is  no  ''  after,"  as  there  can  be  no  "  be- 
fore." His  Past,  His  Future,  is  all  Present.  His  name, 
"  I  AM." 

It  is  from  this  aspect  of  the  divine  omnipresence. 
His  presence,  through  all  time,  as  well  as  in  every 
place — if  we  may  say  so.  His  ubiquitous  eternity — that 
faith  derives  its  confidence,  and  enterprise  its  courage. 
Man  is  of  a  day.     He  plants  the  acorn ;  but  can  hardly 

*  A.  D.  1849.     Dedicated  to  "  Major-Gencral  Winfield  Scott,  General-iu-Chief ; 
a  model  of  the  men  to  make  a  state." 


236  TKE   MEN   TO   MAKE   A   ST.'.TE: 

hope  to  sit  under  tlie  shadow  of  tlie  oak.  He  lays  tlie 
corner-stone  ;  but  does  not  look  to  see  tke  crowning  of 
tlie  battlement.  He  nouriskes  tke  infant ;  but  counts 
not  upon  tke  comfo^'t  of  tke  man.  He  sows,  in  kope. 
Some  one,  ke  knows,  will  reap.  He  plants,  in  kope. 
Some  one,  ke  knows,  will  pluck  tke  fruit.  By  a  beau- 
tiful provision — to  overcome,  to  faitkfal  kearts,  tke 
curse,  tkat  came  in  witk  tke  fall — mortality  is  tkus  im- 
mortalized. A  race,  wkick  periskes,  is  made  perj^etuaL 
Humanity  ackieves  eternity.  Homer  felt  it,  wken,  to 
kis  sigktless  orbs,  were  given  "  tke  vision  and  tke  fac- 
ulty divine,"  wkick,  for  tkree  tkousand  years,  kave  been 
tke  spell  of  universal  man.  Milton  owned  it,  in  tkat 
modest  kope,  tkat  ke  migkt  yet  do  sometking,  wkick 
tke  world  would  not  \^dllingly  let  die.  And  tkat  old 
martyr  wrote  it  in  tke  fire,  wken,  to  kis  brotker  Biskop, 
ke  said,  "  Play  tke  man ;  and  we  skall  ligkt,  to-day,  a 
candle,  in  England,  wkick  skall  never  be  put  out !  " 

Neigkbours  and  friends,  if  tkere  be,  anywkere,  pre- 
eminent encouragement  for  tkis  presentiment  of  perpe- 
tuity, it  is  kere,  and  in  suck  places  as  tkis  is.  Tke  seed, 
wkose  life  is  in  tkese  furrows,  is  tke  seed  of  men.  Tke 
karvest,  tkat  we  kope  to  ripen,  is  of  kearts.  Sckools 
are  tke  seed-plots  of  tke  State.  An  kundi^ed  years  ago, 
and  tkey,  wko  made  tkis  day  immortal,  were,  as  tkese 
are  now.  In  less  tkan  kalf  tke  years,  tkat  kave  rolled 
by,  since  'seventy-six,  tkese,  and  tkeir  fellows,  in  tke 
Colleges,  Avkick  star  tke  land,  mil  sway  tke  State. 
We  link  ourselves,  tkrougk  tkem,  witk  all  tke  future ; 
as  tkey  link  tkemselves,  tkrougk  us,  witk  all  tke  past. 


THEIE   MAKING   AND    THEIE   MAEKS.  237 

It  is  a  cliain  of  hearts  ;  and  his  will  bear  the  recreant's 
curse,  who  fails  the  sacred  trust.  The  men,  who  are  to 
mould  the  nation,  must  be  moulded  here.  These  are 
the  orators,  the  statesmen,  the  priests,  the  patriots,  the 
heroes,  of  the  coming  age.  Through  them,  that  age 
will  take  its  mark,  from  us.  Their  principles,  their 
habits,  their  characters,  will  tell,  through  all  the  centu- 
ries to  come,  in  surges,  that  will  roll  and  swell,  forward 
and  onward,  till  the  dreadful  day  of  doom.  Can  we  do 
better,  on  the  festival,  which  consecrates  the  memory  of 
the  Fathers  of  the  State,  tlian  to  consider,  how  we  best 
shall  serve  it,  in  the  training  of  its  sons  ?  What  can 
be  fitter  for  this,  our  third,  anniversary,  than  the  con- 
templation of  its  sacred  trust,  towards  the  common- 
wealth, which  shelters  it,  in  its  broad  shadow  ?  The 
men^  to  make  a  State  /  the  making^  and  the  marks^  of 
men^  to  make  a  State^  will  be  appropriate  themes,  to- 
day. 

The  men^  to  make  a  State.,  must  he  intelligent  men. 
I  do  not  mean,  that  they  must  know  that  two  and  two 
make  four ;  or,  that  six  per  cent..,  a  year,  is  half  per 
cent..,  a  month.  I  take  a  wider  and  a  higher  range.  I 
limit  myself  to  no  mere  utilitarian  intelligence.  This 
has  its  place.  And  this  will  come,  almost  unsought. 
The  contact  of  the  rough  and  rugged  world  will  force 
men  to  it,  in  self-defence.  The  lust  of  worldly  gain 
will  drag  men  to  it,  for  self  aggrandizement.  But  men, 
so  made,  will  never  make  a  State.  The  intelligence, 
which  that  demands,  mil  take  a  wider  and  a  higher 
range.  Its  study  will  be  man.     It  will  make  histoiy  its 


238  THE   MEN   TO    MAKE   A   STATE: 

cheap  experience.  It  will  read  hearts.  It  will  know 
men.  It  will,  first,  know  itself.  Who  else  can  govern 
men  ?  Who  else  can  know  the  men,  to  govern  men  ? 
The  right  of  suffrage  is  a  fearful  thing.  It  calls  for 
wisdom,  and  discretion,  and  intelligence,  of  no  ordinary 
standard.  It  takes  in,  at  every  exercise,  the  interests 
of  all  the  nation.  Its  results  reach  forward,  through 
time,  into  eternity.  Its  discharge  must  be  accounted 
for,  among  the  dread  responsibilities  of  the  great  day 
of  judgment.  Who  will  go  to  it,  blindly  ?  Who  will 
go  to  it,  ]3assionately  ?  Who  will  go  to  it,  as  a  sycho- 
phant,  a  tool,  a  slave  ?  How  many  do  !  These  are  not 
men,  to  make  a  State. 

The  men,  to  make  a  State,  timist  he  honest  men.  I  do 
not  mean,  men  that  would  never  steal.  I  do  not  mean, 
men  that  would  scorn  to  cheat,  in  making  change.  I 
mean  men,  with  a  single  face.  I  mean  men,  ^dth  a  sin- 
gle eye.  I  mean  men,  with  a  single  tongue.  I  mean 
men,  that  consider,  always,  what  is  right ;  and  do  it,  at 
whatever  cost.  I  mean  men,  who  can  dine,  like  An- 
di'ew  Marvel,  on  a  neck  of  mutton ;  and  whom,  there- 
fore, no  king  on  earth  can  buy.  Men,  that  are  in  the 
market,  for  the  highest  bidder ;  men,  that  make  politics 
their  trade,  and  look  to  office  for  a  living ;  men,  that 
will  crawl,  where  they  cannot  climb :  these  are  not  men 
to  make  a  State. 

The  men,  to  make  a  State,  must  he  hrave  m,en.  I  do 
not  mean  the  men,  that  pick  a  quarrel.  I  do  not  mean 
the  men,  that  carry  dirks.  I  do  not  mean  the  men,  that 
call  themselves  hard  names ;  as  Bouncers,  Killers,  and 


THEIR   MAKING    AND   THEIR    MARKS.  239 

the  like.  I  mean  tlie  men,  tliat  walk  with  open  face, 
and  unprotected  breast.  I  mean  the  men,  that  do,  but 
do  not  talk.  I  mean  tlie  men,  that  dare  to  stand  alone. 
I  mean  the  men,  that  are,  to-day,  where  they  were,  yes- 
terday ;  and  will  be  there,  to-morrow.  I  mean  the  men 
that  can  stand  still,  and  take  the  storm.  I  mean  the 
men  that  are  afraid  to  kill,  but  not  afraid  to  die.  The 
man  that  calls  hard  names,  and  uses  threats  ;  the  man 
that  stabs,  in  secret,  with  his  tongue,  or  with  his  pen ; 
the  man  that  moves  a  mob,  to  deeds  of  violence  and 
self-destruction ;  the  man  that  freely  offers  his  last  drop 
of  blood,  but  never  sheds  the  first :  these  are  not  the 
men  to  make  a  State. 

Tlie  men^  to  make  a  State^  must  he  religious^men. 
States  are  from  God.  States  are  dependent  upon  God. 
States  are  accountable  to  God.  To  leave  God  out  of 
States,  is  to  be  Atheists.  I  do  not  mean,  that  men  must 
cant.  I  do  not  mean,  that  men  must  wear  long  faces. 
I  do  not  mean,  that  men  must  talk  of  conscience,  while 
they  take  your  spoons.  One  shrewdly  called  hypocrisy, 
the  tribute,  which  vice  pays  to  virtue.  These  masks 
and  vizors,  in  like  manner,  are  the  forced  concession, 
which  a  moral  nature  makes,  to  Him,  whom,  at  the 
same  time,  it  dishonours.  I  speak  of  men,  who  feel, 
and  own,  a  God.  I  speak  of  men,  who  feel,  and  own, 
their  sins.  I  speak  of  men,  who  know  there  is  a  hell. 
I  speak  of  men,  who  think  the  Cross,  no  shame.  I 
speak  of  men,  who  have  it  in  their  heart,  as  well  as  on 
their  brow.    The  men  that  own  no  future,  the  men  that 


240  THE   MEN   TO   MAKE   A   STATE.* 

trample  on  tlie  Bible,  tlie  men  that  never  pray,  are  not 
the  men  to  make  a  State. 

The  men,  to  make  a  State,  are  made  hij  faith.  A 
man,  that  has  no  faith,  is  so  mnch  flesh.  His  heart,  a 
muscle ;  nothing  more.  He  has  no  past,  for  reverence ; 
no  future,  for  reliance.  He  lives.  So  does  a  clam. 
Both  die.  Such  men  can  never  make  a  State.  There 
must  be  faith,  which  furnishes  the  fiilcrmn,  Archimedes 
could  not  find,  for  the  long  lever,  that  should  move  the 
world.  There  must  be  faith,  to  look,  through  clouds 
and  storms,  up  to  the  sun,  that  shines  as  cheerily,  on 
high,  as  on  Creation's  morn.  There  must  be  faith,  that 
can  lay  hold  on  heaven,  and  let  the  earth  swing  from 
beneath  it,  if  God  will.  There  must  be  faith,  that  can 
afford  to  sink  the  present,  in  the  future ;  and  let  time 
go,  in  its  strong  grasp  upon  eternity  This  is  the  way 
that  men  are  made,  to  make  a  State. 

The  men,  to  make  a  State,  are  made  hy  self-denial. 
The  willow  dallies  with  the  water,  and  is  fanned  for- 
ever by  its  coolest  breeze,  and  di-aws  its  wave  up,  in 
continual  pulses  of  refreshment  and  delight ;  and  is  a 
willow,  after  all.  An  acorn  has  been  loosened,  some  au- 
tumnal morning,  by  a  squirrel's  foot.  It  finds  a  nest, 
in  some  rude  cleft  of  an  old  granite  rock,  where  there 
is  scarcely  earth  to  cover  it.  It  knows  no  shelter,  and  it 
feels  no  shade.  It  squares  itself  against  the  storms.  It 
shoulders  through  the  blast.  It  asks  no  favour,  and  gives 
none.  It  grapples  with  the  rock.  It  crowds  up,  toward 
the  sun.  It  is  an  oak.  It  has  been,  seventy  years,  an 
oak.     It  will  be  an  oak,  for  seven  times  seventy  years ; 


TKEIK   MAKING   AND   THEIR    MARKS.  241 

unless  you  need  a  man  of  war,  to  thunder  at  the  foe, 
that  shows  a  flag,  upon  the  shore,  where  freemen 
dwell :  and,  then,  you  take  no  willow,  in  its  daintiness 
and  gracefulness ;  but  that  old,  hardy,  storm -stayed  and 
storm-strengthened,  oak.  So  are  the  men  made,  that 
will  make  a  State. 

The  men,  to  make  a  State,  are  tliemselmes  made  hy 
obedience.  Obedience  is  the  health  of  human  heai-ts : 
obedience  to  God ;  obedience,  to  father  and  to  mother, 
who  are,  to  children,  in  the  place  of  God ;  obedience,  to 
teachers  and  to  masters,  who  are  in  the  place  of  father 
and  of  mother ;  obedience,  to  spiritual  pastors,  who  are 
God's  ministers  ;  and  to  the  powers  that  be,  which  are 
ordained  of  God.  Obedience  is  but  self-government,  in 
action :  and  he  can  never  govern  men,  who  does  not  gov- 
ern, first,  himself.     Only  such  men  can  make  a  State. 

The  education  that  would  make  the  men,  to  make  a 
State,  must  make  them  so,  by  faith,  and  self-denial,  and 
obedience.  Faith,  that  asks  never,  why ;  but  trusts, 
and  does :  self-denial,  that  makes  hardships  helps  to 
duty,  and  holdfasts  on  honour ;  bears  fire  or  frost,  so 
duty  call,  with  equal  disregard ;  and  conquers,  by  en- 
durance: and  obedience,  that,  in  doing  honom-  to  the 
law,  does  honour  to  itself;  sees  God,  in  all  who  repre- 
sent Him,  in  the  godlike  work  of  human  government ; 
and  counts  them  only  freemen,  who  are  freemen  of  the 
truth  and  duty.  I  venture  not  to  say,  that,  in  this  Col- 
lege, we  do  these  things,  always,  so :  but  I  do  say,  that 
we  ought  to ;  that  they  are  our  aim  of  strength  and 
crown  of  glory,  as  we  do  them,  in  the  sight  of  God, 

VOL.  IV. 10 


242  THE   MEN   TO   MAKE   A   STATE: 

and  for  His  name ;  and  that,  so  certain  as  we  fail  tliem, 
we  ourselves  shall  fail,  and  shall  deserve  to. 

And,  for  the  marks  of  men,  that  are  to  make  a  State. 
I  see  them,  in  the  ingenuous  hoy.  He  looks  right  at 
you,  with  his  clear,  calm  eye.  The  glow,  that  mantles 
on  his  cheek,  is  of  no  kin  with  shame  :  it  is  but  virtue's 
colour,  spreading  from  his  heart.  You  know  that  boy, 
in  absence,  as  in  presence.  The  darkness  is  not  dark 
to  him ;  for  God's  eye  lightens  it.  He  is  more  prompt 
to  own,  than  do,  a  wrong ;  and  readier,  for  amendment, 
than  for  either.  There  is  nothing  possible,  for  which 
you  may  not  count  on  him ;  and  nothing  good,  that  is 
not  possible,  to  him,  and  God. 

/  see  them,  in  the  earnest  hoy.  His  heart  is  all 
a-throb,  in  all  his  hand  would  do.  His  keen  eye  fixes 
on  the  page  of  Homer,  or  of  Euclid,  or  of  Plato ;  and 
never  wavers,  till  it  sees  right  through  it,  and  has  stored 
its  treasures,  in  the  light  of  his  clear  mind.  His  foot 
has  wings,  for  every  errand  of  benevolence  or  mercy. 
And,  when  you  see  the  bounding  ball  fly  highest,  and 
fall  farthest  from  the  stand,  and  hear  the  ringing  shout, 
that  is  the  signal  of  its  triumph ;  you  may  be  sure  that  it 
was  his  strong  arm,  that  gave  that  ball  the  blow. 

I  see  tliem,  in  the  reverential  hoy.  He  never  sits, 
where  elders  stand.  His  head  is  never  covered,  when 
superiors  pass ;  or,  when  his  mother's  sex  is  by.  He 
owns,  in  every  house,  at  every  hour,  of  prayer,  a  present 
God.  Ingenuous,  eaenest,  eeveeential,  boys  :  these 
are  our  marks,  of  men,  to  make  a  State. 


THEIR   MAKESTG   AND   THEIK   MAEKS.  243 

"  What  constitutes  a  State  ? 
Not  high-raised  battlements,  or  laboured  mound, 

Thick  walls,  or  moated  gate ; 
Not  cities  proud,  with  spires  and  turrets  crowned. 

Not  bays,  and  broad-armed  ports, 
Where,  laughing  at  the  storm,  rich  navies  ride ; 

Not  starred  and  spangled  court  , 
Where  low-browed  baseness  wafts  perfume  to  pride. 

No.     Men,  high  minded  men. 
*         *         *         * 

Men,  who  their  duties  know, 
But  know  their  rights  ;  and,  knowing,  dare  maintain  ; 

Prevent  the  long-aimed  blow, 
And  crush  the  tyrant,  while  they  rend  the  chain  : 

These  constitute  a  State." 


lY. 


THE  LIBEETY  WHICH  DWELLS  WITH  DUTY,  THE 
ATMOSPHEEE  FOR  CHRISTIAN  FREEMEK 

*  THE  FOURTH  FOURTH  OF  JULY  ORATION  AT  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 

I  SAW  a  hale  and  vigorous  old  man.  The  snows  of 
seventy  winters  rested  on  his  brow.  But  he  stood  up, 
like  an  old  oak.  His  foot  took  hold  of  the  firm  earth, 
at  every  step.  There  was  indomitable  might,  in  the 
broad  muscles  of  his  free,  right  arm  ;  and,  in  his  glow- 
ing cheek,  and  genial  eye,  summer  and  autumn  more 
than  held  their  ground,  with  winter's  rugged  reign.  I 
looked :  and  there  was  brought,  to  him,  the  helpless 
beauty  of  a  new-born  babe  ;  to  receive  the  blessing  of  a 
father's  first  and  fondest  kiss.  It  was  his  Benjamin :  the 
son  of  his  old  age  ;  "  the  son  of  his  right  hand." 

The  seventieth  birth-day  of  this  nation  was  the  birth- 
day of  this  College.  It  is  an  old  man's  child.  But  it 
is  the  child  of  the  old  man.  And,  in  the  way,  it  stands, 
and  •  walks,  and  looks  "  right  onward,"  and  makes  its 
mark  on  men,  and  asks  no  favours  of  the  world,  and 

*  A.  D.  1850. 


THE   LIBERTY    WHICH   DWELLS    WITH   DUTY,  ETC.     245 

does  its  battle  for  tlie  riglit,  and  shakes,  from  its  young 
brow,  all  doubts,  all  difficulties,  all  disasters,  "  as  dew- 
drops,  from  a  lion's  mane,"  it  leaves  no  question  open, 
as  to  who  its  father  is.  The  youngest  of  the  Colleges 
of  America,  we  challenge,  for  it,  in  every  deepest,  every 
highest,  sense,  the  name  and  character  of  an  American 
College.  We  make  no  higher  claim  for  it,  we  ask  no 
more  for  it,  from  God,  than,  that  there  go  ft'om  it, 
through  all  the  ages,  yet  to  come,  in  an  increasing 
multitude,  a  line,  that  shall  be  worthy  of  its  lineage ;  a 
line  of  Christian  Freemen. 

On  this  fourth  birth-day  of  our  College,  and  seventy- 
fourth,  of  the  Republic,  the  theme,  which  I  have  chosen, 
to  promote  this  great  and  gracious  end,  is  one,  which  well 
becomes  the  day,  in  both  its  aspects.  As  the  national 
anniversary,  it  is  the  day  to  talk  to  Freemen.  As  the 
great  feast  day  of  our  College,  a  sacred  venture,  in  which 
more  than  life  has  been  embarked,  foi'  Christ,  and  for 
His  Gospel,  in  His  Church,  it  speaks  to  them,  as  Chris- 
tians. I  combine  the  two,  when  I  invite  you,  all  to 
meditate  with  me  this  simple  thought :  The  Liberty 

WHICH  DWELLS  WITH  DuTY,  THE  ATMOSPHERE  FOR  CHRIS- 
TIAN Freemeist. 

There  is  nothing  easier,  nor,  as  men  account,  more 
popular,  than  to  harangue,  of  Liberty.  At  the  mere 
name  of  it,  the  school-boy  screams,  the  "spinice-beer  pops, 
the  crackers  fiz.  Nay,  bells  are  rung,  and  cannons 
roar,  and  men  get  drunk.  Contemplate,  mth  me,  in  one 
of  our  great  cities,  the  aspects  of  Liberty,  as  the  Fourth- 
day  of  July  annually  reveals  them.     The  liberty  of 


246  THE   LIBERTY    WHICH   DWELLS    WITH   DUTY, 

lieat.  The  liberty  of  dust.  The  liberty  of  noise. 
Horses,  frightened,  by  squibs.  Children,  run  over,  by 
horses.  Nurses,  in  hysterics,  mth  their  children.  In 
the  morning,  rum,  like  rain.  By  noon,  republicans,  in 
the  kennel.  Towards  evening,  black  eyes,  as  plenty  as 
blackberries.  A  night,  spent,  in  the  watch-house.  The 
next  day,  before  the  Police  Court.  And  all,  for  Liberty, 
priceless  Liberty,  glorious  Liberty  !  The  Liberty  of 
shame.  The  Liberty  of  suffering.  The  Liberty  of  sin. 
The  Liberty  of  death.  The  Liberty  of  Hell.  Is  life 
happier  for  this  ?  Is  man  better  ?  Has  God  more 
glory  ?  Is  property  safer  ?  Are  homes  more  sacred  ? 
Are  women  held  in  higher  honour  ?  Are  children  bet- 
ter cared  for  ?  Is  the  state  adorned  ?  Is  learning  fur- 
thered ?  Is  peace  promoted  ?  Is  "  the  area  of  freedom  " 
extended  ?  Is  th«  earth  blessed  ?  Is  human  nature 
dignified  ?  Is  the  divine  approached  ?  Is  this  the  Lib- 
erty, for  which  the  first  blood  flowed,  at  Lexington  ? 
Is  this  the  Liberty,  to  secure  whose  blessings,  to  them- 
selves, and  their  posterity,  our  glorious  fathers  estab- 
lished, and  ordained,  the  Constitution  ?  Is  this  the 
Liberty,  under  whose  auspices,  our  incomparable  Wash- 
iNGTOisr  offered  his  jDrayers,  to  Heaven,  that  "  the  hap- 
piness of  the  people  of  these  States  "  might  "  be  made 
complete  ?  "  Is  this  the  Liberty,  by  which  this  day 
has  had  its  consecration,  for  all  ages,  as  the  holiest  in 
the  secular  records  of  mankind ;  the  brightest  and  the 
most  endurino;  in  the  calendar  of  time  ?  Is  this  the 
Liberty,  which  has  set  free  the  stars  and  stripes,  to  flout 
the  breezes,  upon  every  sea ;  and  be,  to  every  land,  the 


THE   ATMOSPHERE   FOE    CHEISTIAN   FEEEMEN".         247 

cynosure  of  hearts,  that  yearn  for  freedom,  and  tlie  I'ally- 
ing  flag  of  man  ?  TMs  is  no  atmosphere,  where  Free- 
men can  be  born,  and  live  ?  As  little  like  it,  as  the 
foul  and  filthy  kennel,  that  steams  with  pestilence, 
is  like  the  mountain  stream,  which,  from  its  crystal 
fountain,  comes  careering  down ;  as  pure,  and  clear, 
and  cool,  as  full  of  comfort,  health,  and  life,  as 
when  the  Prophet  brought  it,  at  a  blow,  from  Horeb's 
cloven  rock. 

For  no  such  Liberty  as  this,  did  Warren,  or  did 
Mercer,  fall.  For  no  such  Liberty  as  this,  did  the 
Assanpink  run  with  blood,  at  Trenton's  heady  fight ; 
or  the  brave  men  of  Monmouth,  on  that  scorching  day, 
gnaw  the  damp  ground,  to  quench  their  burning  thirst. 
For  no  such  Liberty  as  this,  did  the  Representatives  of 
the  United  States  of  America,  in  General  Congress  as- 
sembled, on  this  day,  four  and  seventy  years  ago,  appeal 
to  the  Supreme  Judge  of  the  world,  for  "  the  rectitude 
of  their  intentions ; "  when  they  declared,  that  these 
United  Colonies  "  are,  and,  of  right,  ought  to  be,  Free 
and  Lidependent  States."  Theirs,  was  no  impulse  of 
mere  passion.  Theirs,  was  no  voice  of  vague  and  noisy 
protestation.  Theirs,  was  no  clamour  of  insolvent  debt- 
ors ;  no  banding  of  conspirators  and  bankrupts.  They 
sought  no  gain.  They  asked  no  place.  They  panted, 
for  no  power.  They  were  men  of  family,  of  character, 
of  substance.  There  was  no  better  blood  on  earth,  than 
circled,  in  their  veins.  They  were  brothers,  husbands, 
fathers.  They  were  loyal  subjects.  They  were  pious 
Christians.      But  their  country  was  oppressed.     Their 


248  THE   LIBEETY    WHICH   DWELLS    WITH   DUTY. 

rights  were  disregarded.  Their  heartli-stones  were 
invaded.  And,  when  the  claims  of  justice,  and  the  ties 
of  blood,  had  been  refused  and  disallowed,  they  did, 
what  Freemen  must,  and  Christians  may ;  and,  stand- 
ing up,  beside  their  altars,  and  their  hearths,  sworn  to 
defend  them,  or.  to  die  upon  them,  they  signed  the 
immortal  paper,  which  is,  now,  the  Magna  Charta  of 
mankind. 

Theirs  was  the  Liberty,  which  dwelt  with  Duty. 
Duty  demanded  it.  Duty  sanctified  it.  Duty  achieved 
it.  It  is  the  Liberty,  which  God  approves  of,  and  will 
always  bless.  It  is  the  atmosphere,  for  Christian  Free- 
men.    It  is  the  atmosphere,  for  us. 

The  Liberty^  loliicli  dwells,  with  Duty,  will  he  hum- 
hie.  It  will  not  shrink  from  the  admission  of  superiors. 
It  must  admit  a  God.  It  will  own  God,  in  all  who  rep- 
resent Him.  The  child  will  honour  and  obey  his  parents. 
The  servant  will  be  submissive  to  his  master.  The  pupil 
will  be  subject  to  the  teacher.  The  citizen  will  reverence 
the  magistrate.  All  will  submit  themselves  to  them, 
who  are  God's  watchmen  for  their  souls.  Short  of  this, 
all  must  be  confusion.  Short  of  this,  liberty  becomes 
licentiousness.  Order  is  lost.  Rights  cease.  Peace 
perishes.  Even,  hope  is  gone.  It  was  the  pride  of 
Liberty,  that  cast  the  rebel  angels  down,  to  Hell.  And, 
now,  the  angels  that  excel  in  strength,  are  strongest  and 
most  excellent  in  this  ;  that,  with  all  their  conscious- 
ness of  power,  and  all  the  glory  of  their  rank,  they  hold 
them  in  humility ;  hearkening,  to  hear  His  word,  that 
they  may  hasten,  to  do  His  will.      And  the  Apostle 


THE   ATMOSPHERE   FOR    CHRISTIAN   FREEMEIST.         249 

Paul,  in  Ms  most  graphic  picture  of  tlie  wretcliedness 
and  ruin,  in  wliicli  tlie  wliole  creation  lias  been  im- 
plicated by  tlie  Fall,  contrasts  "  tlie  bondage  of  corrup- 
tion," in  words,  inimitable,  for  their  trutli  and  beauty, 
with  "the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God." 
The  liberty  of  children,  to  obey,  and  fear,  and  love. 
The  liberty  of  God's  children,  to  obey,  and  fear,  and 
love.  His  perfect  and  immortal  nature.  A  glorious 
liberty,  as  it  draws  up  the  children,  to  the  Father ;  and, 
through  the  contemplation  and  adoration  of  His  perfec- 
tions, makes  them  one  with  Him,  in  His  eternal  and 
everlasting  glory.  In  the  liberty,  that  dwells  with 
duty,  it  is  our  aim,  to  bring  these  children  up.  The 
liberty,  which  lives,  by  law.  The  liberty,  which  lives,  by 
love.  The  law,  which  gives  to  every  one  his  own.  The 
love,  which  esteems  all  others  better  than  itself  This 
is  the  atmosphere,  to  nourish  Christian  freemen.  The 
children,  who  endure  this  training,  will  grow  u]),  the 
freemen  of  the  Lord. 

The  Liberty^  ivJiich  dwells^  with  Duty,  will  he  unsel- 
fish. Self  is  not  more  the  antagonist  of  love,  than  it  is 
of  liberty.  The  selfish  man  is,  of  necessity,  a  self  tor- 
mentor. And  the  disease,  which  kills  his  peace,  destroys 
the  peace  of  every  other.  True  liberty  can  only  dwell  in 
a  large  heart.  It  must  have  room,  to  grow.  The  largest 
heart,  it  will  still  find  too  narrow ;  and  must  overflow, 
on  others.  It  is  the  Mle  of  our  humanity.  It  swells, 
and  spreads,  and  deepens ;  till  the  world  around  it  has 
been  watered,  softened,  fertilized,  made  beautiful  and 
glorious,  in  its  broad  and  blessed  flood.    In  the  Liberty, 


250  THE    LIBERTY    WHICH    DWELLS    WITH    DUTY, 

whicli  dwells  witli  Duty,  iu  tlie  lia]3py  liome  of  an 
un selfish  heart,  we  strive  to  bring  these  chilcben  up. 
Mutual  service,  mutual  endurance,  mutual  concessions, 
mutual  sacrifices :  these  are  the  charms  of  love ;  in 
these  true  liberty  is  found,  and  felt.  The  loads  of 
life  are  lightened,  by  its  love.  The  clouds  of  life  are 
brightened,  by  its  light.  Hearts  twin  with  hearts. 
Blood  blends  wdth  blood.  The  race  is  one,  in  the  All- 
Father,  God. 

"  Oft,  ere  the  common  source  be  known, 
The  kindred  drops  will  claim  their  own  ; 
And  throbbing  pulses,  silently, 
Move  heart,  towards  heart,  by  sympathy. 
Oh,  might  we  all  our  lineage  prove, 
Give,  and  forgive,  do  good,  and  love ; 
By  soft  endearments,  in  kind  strife. 
Lightening  the  load  of  daily  life."  * 

Tlie  Lihei'ty,  icTiich  divells,  loith  Duty^  is  religious. 
Satan  has  not  a  falser,  as  no  more  dangerous,  delusion, 
than  the  antagonism  of  truth  and  freedom ;  of  liberty 
with  religion.  He  is  the  only  freeman,  whom  the  truth 
makes  free.  Can  there  be  freedom,  in  a  lie  ?  Can  a  liar 
look  up,  at  a  man  ?  Can  a  liar  come  to  God  ?  Why, 
it  was  Satan's  lie,  that  lost  the  liberty  of  Paradise. 
And  religion,  so  far  from  the  bondage  of  our  nature,  is, 
as  its  name  implies,  the  sacred  cord,  by  w^hich  it  is 
drawn  back,  from  slavery  and  sin ;  and  bound  again — 
as  re  and  ligo  mean — to  happiness  and  God.  What  is 
the  service  of  the  flesh  %     A  servitude  that  wears  itself 

*  Keble's  Christian  Year. 


THE   ATMOSPHERE   FOK    CHRISTIAN   FREEMEN.        251 

out  in  the  chains  that  wear  the  heart  ?  What  is  the 
service  of  the  world  ?  A  slavery  to  many  masters ; 
changing  with  the  hour,  yet  never  intermitting ;  cheer- 
less, to  endure,  and  thankless,  in  the  end.  What  is  the 
service  of  the  Devil  ?  Subjection  to  a  slave ;  who, 
bound  himself  in  misery  and  iron,  indulges  his  vindic- 
tiveness,  against  the  God,  who  chained  him,  by  the 
wrongs,  he  wreaks  upon  God's  image,  in  our  nature. 
The  service  of  God,  meanwhile,  is  perfect  and  eternal 
freedom.  The  Son  hath  made  His  children  free.  And, 
"  where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  liberty."  Not 
the  liberty,  to  sin ;  but  the  liberty,  not  to  sin.  Not  the 
liberty,  to  live  away  from  God  ;  but,  to  live  near  Him, 
and  lean  on  Him,  and  look  up  to  Him.  The  liberty  of 
a  good  conscience.  The  liberty  of  virtuous  habits. 
The  liberty  of  a  holy  life.  The  liberty  of  prayer.  The 
liberty  of  peace.  The  liberty  of  love.  Continual  are 
our  exertions,  and  our  prayers  continual,  that  these 
dear  children,  whom  the  Lord  has  lent  us,  for  a  while, 
to  train  for  Him,  may  grow  up,  as  His  children,  and 
His  freemen,  in  the  religious  Liberty,  which  dwells 
with  Duty. 

Happiest,  for  my  purpose,  and  in  most  perfect  har- 
mony with  this  twice  blessed  Day,  in  both  its  aspects, 
as  it  made  us  Freemen,  and  as  it  finds  us  Christians, 
are  the  words  of  William  Wordsworth,  the  Sage  and 
Poet  of  our  times  ;  saintly,  in  all  his  life,  now  sainted, 
in  his  death ;  my  admiration,  always :  and,  nine  years, 
my  kind  and  faithful  friend.  His  "  Ode  to  Duty  "  is 
the  noblest  strain  of  Christian  morals,  which  even  his 


252  THE   LIBERTY    WHICH   DWELLS   WITH   DUTY, 

harp  has  uttered.  And  to  knit  its  heavenly  tones  in 
with  this  day,  and  make  it  heavenly ;  to  imbue,  with 
its  angelic  spirit,  the  young  hearts  of  these  childi'en,  and 
fit  them  for  the  choir  of  angels,  where  his  voice  now 
rings,  will  be,  so  God  shall  grant  it  to  my  prayers,  their 
fittest,  fullest  answer. 

Stern  Daughter  of  the  voice  of  God  ! 

O  Duty  !  if  that  name  Thou  love, 
Who  art  a  light  to  guide,  a  rod 

To  check  the  erring,  and  reprove  ; 
Thou,  who  art  victory  and  law, 
When  empty  terrors  overawe, 
From  vain  temptations  dost  set  free ; 
And  calmst  the  weary  strife  of  frail  humanity  ! 

There  are,  who  ask  not,  if  thine  eye 

Be  on  them  ;  who,  in  love  and  truth, 
Where  no  misgiving  is,  rely 

Upon  the  genial  sense  of  youth  : 
Glad  hearts  !  without  reproach  or  blot ; 
Who  do  thy  work,  and  know  it  not : 
Oh  !  if,  through  confidence  misplaced, 
They  fail,  thy  saving  arms,  dread  Power !  around  them  cast. 

Serene  will  be  our  days,  and  bright. 

And  happy  will  our  nature  be, 
When  love  is  an  unerring  light, 

And  joy  its  own  security. 
And  they  a  blissful  course  may  hold. 
Even  now,  who,  not  unwisely  bold, 
Live  in  the  spirit  of  this  creed  ; 
Yet,  seek  thy  firm  support,  according  to  their  need. 

I,  loving  freedom,  and  untried  ; 
No  sport  of  every  random  gust 


THE   ATMOSPHEEE   FOR    CHEISTIAN   FREEMEN.         253 

Yet,  being  to  myself  a  guide, 

Too  blindly  have  reposed  my  trust : 
And,  oft,  when,  in  my  heart  was  heard 
Thy  timely  mandate,  I  deferred 
The  task,  in  smoother  walks  to  stray ; 
But,  thee,  I  now  would  serve  more  strictly,  if  I  may. 

Through  no  disturbance  of  my  soul. 

Or  strong  compunction  in  me  wrought, 
I  supplicate  for  thy  control ; 

But,  in  the  quietness  of  thought : 
Me,  this  unchartered  freedom  tires  ; 
I  feel  the  weight  of  chance-desires  : 
My  hopes  no  more  must  change  their  name ; 
I  long  for  a  repose,  that  ever  is  the  same. 

Stern  Lawgiver  !  yet  thou  dost  wear 

The  Godhead's  most  benignant  grace ; 
Nor  know  we  anything  so  fair 

As  is  the  smile  upon  thy  face  : 
Flowers  laugh  before  thee,  in  their  beds  ; 
And  fragrance,  in  thy  footing,  treads ; 
Thou  dost  preserve  the  stars  from  wrong ; 
And  the  most  ancient  heavens,  through  Thee,  are  fresh  and 
strong. 

To  humbler  functions,  awful  Power  ! 

I  call  thee  ;  I  myself  commend 
Unto  thy  guidance,  from  this  hour  ; 

Oh,  let  my  weakness  have  an  end ! 
Give  unto  me,  made  lowly  wise, 
The  spirit  of  self  sacrifice  ; 
The  confidence  of  reason  give  ; 
And,  in  the  light  of  truth,  thy  bondsman,  let  me  live  ! 


V. 

PATRIOTISM  A  CHRISTIAN  DUTY. 

*  THE  FIFTH  FOURTH  OF  JULY  ORATION  AT  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 

Twenty-five  years  ago,  this  day — I  was  younger 
then,  in  years,  than  I  am  now ;  but,  by  the  good  right- 
hand  of  God  upon  me,  not  younger,  by  one  whit,  in 
heart  or  hope — I  delivered  the  Jubilee  Oration  of 
American  Independence,  in  the  City  of  Hartford,  by 
the  appointment  of  the  civil  authority.  I  was  then,  as 
now,  enlisted,  hand  and  heart,  in  the  good  work  of 
Christian  education ;  and  the  officers  and  students  of 
Washington  College,  of  which  I  was  the  senior  Profes- 
sor, were  a  portion  of  my  audience.  I  have  scarcely 
seen  the  manuscript,  from  that  day  to  this.  But  the 
circumstance,  that  we  complete  to-day  three-quarters  of 
a  century  of  freedom,  induced  me  to  look  after  it. 
And  1  cannot  better  serve  the  purpose,  which  I  have  in 
hand,  than  by  the  re-production,  now  and  here,  of  its 
opening  and  closing  paragraphs. 

"  This  day,  a  half  century  is  completed,  since  the 
'  Thirteen  United  States  of  America',  by  their  '  unani- 

*  A.  D.  1851. 


PATEIOTISM    A    CHRISTIAN   DUTY.  255 

mous  declaration,'  claimed  for  themselves  a  name  and  a 
place,  among  tlie  sovereign  nations  of  tlie  earth.  You 
have  listened  to  that  inimitable  paper,  stirring  your 
hearts  within  you,  as  with  the  sound  of  a  trumpet,  in 
which  their  claim  was  urged.  And  yourselves,  my  fel- 
low-citizens, casting  aside,  for  a  season,  the  cares  and 
duties  of  your  daily  life,  and  come  up  hither  to  profess 
anew  its  principles,  and  to  rejoice  in  its  success,  are  liv- 
ing witnesses  of  the  unparalleled  result.  The  thirteen 
colonies,  then,  rich  in  nothing,  but  their  love  of  liberty, 
and  strong  in  nothing  but  their  trust  in  God,  are  now 
become  twenty-four  States ;  the  members  of  a  Federal 
Republic,  which,  on  the  side  of  justice,  may  defy  the 
world.  The  three  millions  of  people,  which  were  then 
thinly  sprinkled  along  the  coast,  are  multiplied  to  more 
than  ten.  The  tide  of  their  increase,  rolling  westward, 
with  the  course  of  day,  has  long  since  occupied  the  Al- 
leghanies ;  and  is  now  pouring  its  thousands  out  through 
the  vast  valley  of  the  Mississippi.  Upon .  the  tree  of 
our  liberties,  which  the  fathers  of  the  republic,  as  on 
this  day,  planted  with  holy  hands,  that  trembled,  but 
not  with  fear,  the  dews  and  rains  of  fifty  years  have 
fallen.  Cherished  by  favouring  heaven,  with  light  and 
warmth,  and  only  rooted  to  a  greater  depth  by  winds 
and  tempests,  it  stands  erect  among  the  nations ;  offer- 
ing its  grateful  shadow  to  the  oppressed  of  every  land ; 
and  sheltering  fi'om  the  heat  and  from  the  storm  the 
happy  millions,  who  repose  beneath  its  branches.  Is  it 
not  meet,  my  fellow-citizens,  in  the  remembrance  of 
such  a  triumph,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  such  a  bless- 


256  PATRIOTISM   A    CHRISTIAN   DUTY. 

ing,  tliat  witli  us,  as  witli  God's  people  in  tlie  olden 
time,  if  not  tlie  fiftieth  year,  at  least  tlie  fiftietli  anni- 
versary, should  be  observed  as  holy  ?  That  throughout 
the  land,  liberty  should  be  proclaimed  ?  That  the  voice 
of  the  nation's  jubilee  should  go  out  into  the  world :  to 
the  first-born  of  every  tyrant  that  sitteth  on  the  throne, 
a  voice  of  fearful  warning ;  to  the  oppressed  of  every 
name,  in  every  land,  a  watch-word  and  a  war-cry ;  to 
the  God  of  our  fathers,  and  our  own  God,  who,  in  the 
day  of  battle,  thundered  in  the  van,  and  in  the  day  of 
peace,  still  showers  His  blessings  on  us,  as  the  gracious 
rain,  the  voice  of  thanks  and  praise ;  a  nation's  sacrifice 
of  love  and  adoration  !  " 

We  are  now  half-way  toward  another  jubilee.  The 
fifty  years  of  freedom  have,  in  God's  forbearing  Pro^d- 
dence,  been  lengthened  out,  to  seventy-five.  And  has 
the  motive  to  thanksgiving  failed  ?  Has  the  debt  of 
love  and  gratitude  to  God  been  lessened  ?  Have  we 
gone  backward,  or  stood  still,  in  the  high  track  of  free- 
dom, glory,  power  ?  Our  ten  millions,  in  twenty-five 
years,  have  been  multiplied  to  more  than  twenty-three. 
Our  four  and  twenty  States  are  thirty-one.  And  the 
shores  of  the  Pacific  are,  now,  what  the  valley  of  the 
Mississippi  was,  then.  In  arms,  in  arts,  in  wealth,  in  ag- 
riculture, in  commerce,  in  manufactures,  in  education, 
in  religious  privileges  and  opportunities,  the  advance 
far  outreaches  calculation.  And  all  this,  in  but  little 
more  than  the  thi'ee  score  years  and  ten,  which  are  the 
lot  of  human  life.     All  this  within  the  memory  of  some, 


PATRIOTISM   A    CHRISTIAN   DUTY.  257 

wlio  still  bless  us  with  their  venerable  presence,  and 
adorn  us  with  the  lustre  of  their  patriotism.  All  this, 
within  a  period  which  the  oldest  who  now  hears  me 
may  round  into  a  century ;  and  not  yet  come  to  four 
score  years.  What  a  tribute  to  the  high,  forecasting 
wisdom  of  the  fathers  of  our  freedom  !  What  a  trophy 
to  the  skilfulness  and  valour  of  the  heroes  of  our  Rev- 
olution !  What  a  testimony  to  the  excellence  of  our  na- 
tional constitution !  What  a  crown  of  glory  on  the 
triumphal  arch  of  our  incomparable  union !  With 
Avhat  far  deeper  truth,  with  what  far  fuller  fervour, 
may  I  say,  to-day,  what  I  said  five  and  twenty  years  ago. 

"  Cherish,  as  your  choicest  possession  of  the  earth, 
the  principles  of  that  free  and  happy  Constitution,  un- 
der which,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  on  your  brave  fa- 
thers' sufferings  and  trials,  it  is  your  lot  to  live.  They 
have  been  tried  in  the  storm  and  in  the  calm ;  and  have 
borne  you  triumphantly  through  both.  Springing 
into  existence  from  the  strife  and  confusion  of  one  war, 
they  have  been  your  strength  and  support  in  the  dan- 
gers and  trials  of  another ;  and  in  both  have  brought 
down  victory  to  your  banner.  And  they  have  raised 
you  now  to  a  height  of  honour,  in  the  ]3rosperity  of 
peace,  such  as  war  could  never  win ;  to  be  the  hope,  the 
pattern,  the  rallying  point  of  the  world.  Did  the  fa- 
thers of  the  Revolution  bare  theii'  bosoms  to  the  fight, 
as  the  forlorn  hope  of  freedom  and  of  man  ?  And  will 
not  you,  that  have  so  nobly  realized  what  they  dared  not 
to  di'eam  of,  stand  by  their  priceless  purchase  against 

VOL.  IV. 17 


258  PATBIOTISM   A    CHRISTIAJST   DUTY. 

every  assault  that  can  attempt  it  from  without ;  and, 
far  more  dangerous,  tlie  internal  discords,  that  would 
undenniue  it  fi'om  within  ?  Did  the  fathers  of  the 
Revolution  nobly  cast  aside  every  thought  of  private 
interest ;  and  with  their  country,  their  whole  country, 
as  the  object  of  their  toils  and  prayers,  unite,  from  North 
to  South,  in  one  indomitable  Macedonian  phalanx ; 
and,  heart  in  heart,  and  shoulder  against  shoulder, 
brave  the  fierce  onset,  and  hurl  back  its  tide  ?  And, 
shall  we  now,  in  the  piping  times  of  peace,  permit  some 
local  interest,  permit  some  private  prejudice,  permit 
some  selfish  consideration  of  emolument  or  of  aggran- 
dizement, to  come  between  our  hearts ;  and  burst  the 
bond,  which  holy  hands,  with  many  a  tear,  and  prayer, 
have  knit ;  and  rend  that  glorious  Union,  which  they 
cemented,  and  made  sacred  with  their  blood  ?  No ! 
let  the  traitor  perish,  in  hot  blood,  whatever  be  his 
name,  wherever  be  his  home,  who  dares,  with  sacrilig- 
ious  hand,  to  separate,  what  God  has  joined  together : 
who  dares  to  touch,  with  purpose  of  dismemberment, 
one  sacred  stone  of  the  old  Cyclopean  Arch, — conceived 
by  giant  hearts,  and  piled,  by  giant  hands, — of  oui*  in- 
comparable, and,  as  I  believe,  imperishable  Union." 

Thus,  did  I  speak,  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago  ;  when 
not  a  flake  of  snow  had  fallen  upon  my  head.  And 
now,  with  these  white  hairs,  which  care  and  suffering 
for  the  sacred,  cause  to  which  my  life  is  given,  far  more 
than  years,  have  thinned  and  whitened  for  the  grave, 
to  be  my  witness,  before  God,  I  re-assert  the  whole,  and 


PATEIOTISM   A   CHRISTIAN   DUTY.  259 

more.  Polybius*  and  Livyf  after  liim,  relate,  that 
when  Hamilcar  Barca  was  about  to  carry  the  war, 
which  he  had  waged  so  long  against  the  Romans,  into 
Spain,  he  performed,  by  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar,  a 
solemn  act  of  his  religion.  A  sacrifice  was  offered,  to 
propitiate  the  heavenly  favour  on  his  country  and  its 
armies.  As  his  little  son,  then  nine  years  old,  stood 
by,  he  bade  the  priests  and  others  who  were  present, 
to  retire  a  little ;  and  called  him  to  the  altar,  blazing  yet 
with  sacrificial  fires.  He  asked  him,  then,  if  he  would 
like  to  go  with  him,  upon  the  expedition.  And  when, 
with  childish  zeal  he  begged  him,  that  he  might,  he 
took  his  little  hand  and  laid  it  on  the  sacrifice ;  and 
bade  him  swear,  that  he  would  never  cease  to  be  the 
enemy  of  Rome.  And  Rome,  in  all  her  history,  had 
never  such  an  enemy  as  Hannibal.  I  believe  that  Pa- 
triotism is  a  religious  duty.  I  believe,  that  it  is  to  be 
taught,  as  such,  from  earliest  childhood.  I  believe,  that, 
only  second  to  their  Saviour  and  His  Church,  our  off"- 
spring  should  be  trained  to  love  and  serve  the  land, 
which  is  their  providential  heritage.  And,  I  would 
take  these  childi'en  now,  and  lay  their  hands  upon  the 
altar,  which  commemorates  and  certifies  to  their  re- 
demption ;  and  demand  their  pledge,  before  the  God 
who  sees  their  heart,  that  they  would  never  be  the 
friend  of  him,  Avho  would  disturb  this  Union.  I  care 
not  where  he  comes  fi^om.  I  care  not  what  his  plea  be. 
As  an  American,  I  know  no  North ;  I  know  no  South. 
One   country  is   enough    for  me.      "  Omnes   omnium 

*  Historiarum,  III.  11.  \  Uistoriarum,  XXI.  3. 


260  PATEIOTISM    A    CHKISTIAN   DUTY. 

caritates  patria  una  complexa  est."*  Tlie  country  of 
the  Union ;  tlie  country  of  tlie  Constitution ;  tlie  coun- 
try of  tlie  stars  and  stripes  ;  tliat  is  my  country, — I  go 
for  it,  all.  I  go  for  it,  as  one.  I  go  for  it,  as  indivisi- 
ble. And,  I  would  sooner  tear  my  quivering  heart- 
strings from  their  core,  than  see  one  Pleiad  lost  from 
that  all-glorious  constellation. 

"  When  Freedom,  from  her  mountain  height, 

Unfurled  her  standard  to  the  air, 
She  tore  the  azure  robe  of  night, 

And  set  the  stars  of  glory  there. 
She  mingled  with  the  gorgeous  dies, 
The  milky  baldric  of  the  skies  ; 
And  striped  its  pure  celestial  white. 
With  streakings  of  the  morning  light. 
Then,  from  his  mansion,  in  the  sun. 
She  called  her  eagle-bearer  down, 
And  gave  into  his  mighty  hand 
The  symbol  of  her  chosen  land." 

"  Flag  of  the  free  heart's  only  home, 

By  angel  hands  to  valour  given, 
Thy  stars  have  lit  the  western  dome, 

And  all  thy  hues  were  born  in  Heaven. 
Forever  float  that  standard  sheet. 

While  breathes  the  foe,  that  falls  before  us  : 
With  Freedom's  soil  beneath  our  feet ; 

And  Freedom's  banner,  streaming  o'er  us  !  "•(• 

*  Cicero,  de  officiis,  I.  17.  f  The  American  Flag,  by  Dr.  Drake. 


VI. 


INFLUENCE  WITHOUT  INTERVENTION,  THE 
DUTY  OF  OUR  NATION  TO  THE  WORLD. 

*  THE  SIXTH  FOURTH  OF  JULY  ORATION  AT  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 

Natiojsts  are  men,  in  masses.  The  same  God  made 
them,  nations,  that,  first,  made  them,  men.  He  "  hath 
made,  of  one  blood,  all  nations  of  men,  for  to  dwell  on 
all  the  face  of  the  earth ;  and  hath  determined  the 
times  before  appointed,  and  the  bounds  of  their  habita- 
tion." They  are,  thus,  moral  aggregates  ;  and  held  for 
moral  obligations :  the  same,  as  nations,  which  they 
own,  as  men.  Of  the  one,  as  of  the  other,  it  is  true  : 
"  none  of  us  liveth,  to  himself ;  and  no  man  dieth,  to 
liimself."  On  one,  as  on  the  other,  it  is  enjoined :  "  look 
not  every  man  on  his  own  things ;  but,  every  man,  also, 
on  the  things  of  others."  Of  the  one,  as  of  the  other, 
it  holds  good  :  "  love  worketh  no  ill  to  his  neighbour ; 
therefore,  love  is  the  fulfilliDg  of  the  law."  By  these, 
and  such  like,  rules,  a  Christian  nation,  as  a  Christian 
man,  is  governed.  Such  fruits,  as  these,  demonstrate 
Christian  men,  alike ;  and  Christian  nations.  And,  for 

*  A.  D.  1852. 


262  INFLUENCE   WITHOUT   ESTTERVENTIOlSr, 

nations,  as  for  men,  there  is  a  rule  of  lioly  retribution  : 
"  therefore,  I  say  unto  you,  the  kingdom  of  God  shall 
be  taken  from  you,  and  given  to  a  nation,  bringing 
forth  the  fruits  thereof" 

These  premises  will  quite  suffice,  for  the  conclusions, 
which  I  mean  to  draw.  It  follows,  from  them,  that  a 
nation  owes  a  nation,  as  a  man,  to  men,  the  impulses  and 
efforts  of  a  true  benevolence.  Not,  in  the  interchange 
of  commerce ;  not,  in  the  negotiations  of  diplomacy ; 
not,  in  the  formalities  of  etiquette ;  are  the  mutual 
debts,  which  nations  owe  each  other,  to  be  discharged : 
but,  in  the  aims  and  offices  of  an  all-embracing,  all-en- 
during, charity.  The  law  of  Christ,  for  nations,  as  for 
men,  is  still  the  same :  "  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour 
as  thyself"  And,  when  the  question  rises,  in  the  sel- 
fish, self-excusing,  heart,  "  Who  is  ray  neighbour  ?  "^ — the 
Lord  Himself,  in  His  own  image,  in  the  Good  Samari- 
tan, supplies,  at  once,  the  answer,  and  the  illustration, 
"  Which  now,  of  these  three,  thinkest  thou,  was  neigh- 
bour unto  him,  that  fell  among  the  thieves  ?  And  he 
said.  He  that  showed  mercy  on  him.  Then  said  Jesus, 
unto  him.  Go,  and  do  thou,  likewise." 

We  are  ready,  now,  to  apply  to  our  owm  case,  the 
principles,  thus,  stated.  We  are  a  nation ;  a  great  and 
powerful  nation ;  a  free  and  happy  nation.  This  is  the 
six  and  seventieth  anniversary  of  seventeen  hundred 
and  seventy-six.  And,  all  the  glorious  hopes  of  the 
immortal  band,  who  made  this  day,  immortal,  have 
been  more  than  realized,  in  happiness  and  freedom.  The 
handful,  that,  then,  skirted  the  long  sea-board  of  the 


THE  DUTY  OF  OUE  NATION  TO  THE  "WORLD.    263 

wild  Atlantic,  are  now,  five  and  twenty  millions  ;  and 
join  hands,  from  tlie  Atlantic,  to  tlie  broad  Pacific.  It 
is  a  simple  fact,  from  wMcli  all  boasting  is  excluded, 
since  we  owe  whatever  we  possess  to  Him,  to  whom 
our  fathers  looked,  that  these  United  States,  are,  now, 
the  equal  of  the  chiefest  of  the  nations  of  the  world. 
England  and  France,  and  Kussia,  stand,  on  the  same 
line.  The  rest,  in  various  grades  of  obvious  inferiority. 
In  the  respect  of  freedom,  we  surpass  them  all.  Here, 
alone,  in  all  the  world,  the  problem  is  ^vrought  out,  of 
true  and  perfect  freedom.  No  hereditary  rank.  No 
privileged  class.  No  standing  army.  No  public  debt. 
The  utmost  scope  to  enterprise.  The  utmost  enjoyment 
to  possession.  Competence,  within  the  reach  of  all, 
who  will.  Distinction,  free,  to  all,  alike.  No  service, 
but  of  God.  No  submission,  but  to  His  law.  No  de- 
pendence, but  on  His  will.  "  What  nation  is  there,  so 
great,"  we  may  say,  with  as  much  truth,  as  Moses  said, 
"  who  hath  God  so  nigh  unto  them,  as  the  Lord  our 
God  is,  in  all  things,  that  we  call  upon  Him  for ! " 
But,  as  truly,  as  we  owe  not  these  great  blessings,  to 
ourselves ;  so  truly,  for  ourselves,  we  hold  them  not. 
We  are  the  trustees,  for  the  world,  of  equal  laws  and 
of  fr^ee  institutions.  We  owe,  to  all,  who  have  them 
not,  the  benefits,  which  spring  from  them,  alone,  which 
they,  alone,  can  keep ;  which,  without  them,  if  they 
could  be,  were  not  worth  having.  The  God,  Who 
made,  "  of  one  blood,  all  the  nations  of  men,"  and  Who 
has,  thus,  made  us,  to  difi^er,  from  all  others,  designs, 
by  us,  to  spread  them,  through  the  world ;  and  holds 


264 

us  answerable,  for  tlieir  unlimited  diffusion.  "  We  hold 
these  truths  to  be  self-e\"ident." 

And,  now,  the  question  rises,  how  shall  this  diffu- 
sion be  accomplished  ?  Shall  it  be,  by  the  force  of 
arms  1  Shall  it  be,  by  diplomatic  art  ?  Shall  it  be,  by 
any  of  the  forms  of  that,  which  is  proverbially  known, 
as  "  intervention  ?  "  I  most  distinctly  answer,  No  ! 
The  right  to  intervene,  is  but  the  right  of  the  strong 
arm.  It  was  the  man  that  intervened,  between  the  lion 
and  the  horse.  If  one  may  claim  the  right,  another 
may  refuse.  Then,  it  is  the  question  of  the  strongest. 
Then,  must  come  in  the  last  resort.  Then,  is  their  hour, 
who  make  a  solitude,  and  call  it  peace. 

And,  intervention  is  as  inexpedient,  as  it  is  wrong. 
What  is  the  intervention,  that  preserves  the  spheres, 
forever,  in  their  starry  tracks  ?  The  quiet,  steady,  con- 
stant, unperceived,  and,  therefore,  unresisted,  agency  of 
gravitation.  What  is  the  intervention,  between  the 
ice-bound  earth,  when  January  piles  its  snows ;  and  the 
broad  waving  of  the  golden  grain,  that  woos  the  wind, 
upon  the  slopes  of  t^vice  ten  thousand  hills  ?  The 
quiet,  steady,  constant,  unperceived,  and,  therefore,  un- 
resisted, agency  of  all  the  skiey  influences ;  the  silent 
dew,  the  gracious  rain,  the  whispering  air,  the  genial 
sun.  What  is  the  intervention,  between  the  infant  of 
an  hour,  and  the  majestic  man ;  the  mill-boy  of  the 
slashes,  and  our  incomparable  Clay  ?  The  quiet,  steady, 
constant,  unperceived,  and,  therefore,  unresisted,  agency 
of  education ;  the  father's  toils,  the  father's  training, 
the   father's   good   example ;   the   mother's   tears,   the 


THE  DUTY  OF  OUR  NATION  TO  THE  WORLD.    265 

motlier's  teaching,  and  the  mother's  prayers.  Where, 
in  God's  world,  does  intervention  come,  directly,  in, 
but,  in  the  earthquake,  that  convulses  hemispheres ;  or 
the  tornado,  that  sweeps  towers  and  temples,  from  theii' 
places ;  or  the  red  bolt,  that  rives  the  oak,  that  has 
been  shelter,  to  a  hundred  generations  !  Where,  in 
God's  world,  material,  intellectual,  moral,  is  any  thing 
accomplished,  for  His  glory,  or  the  good  of  men,  but  in 
the  agency  of  influence !  The  antediluvian  forests, 
melted  into  coal.  The  old  deposits  of  the  flood,  all 
mellowed,  into  marl.  The  gold,  in  grains,  ripening,  in 
darkness,  at  the  mountain's  foot,  or  in  the  river's  bed. 
And,  more  than  all,  the  wealth  of  mind,  matrndng,  and 
aspiring  and  victorious,  over  every  form  and  agency  of 
matter :  in  cells,  that  do  but  glimmer,  in  the  scant  and 
straggling  ray,  that  seems  to  wonder  how  it  found  an 
entrance ;  or,  in  the  garret,  where  the  chandler's  boy 
devours  the  borrowed  book,  by  the  dim  light  of  the 
secreted  candle.  And,  so  it  is  with  nations.  To  be 
helped,  at  all,  they  must,  first,  help  themselves.  They 
must  achieve  the  freedom,  they  Avould  prize.  They 
must  earn  the  happiness,  they  would  enjoy.  They  must 
struggle  upward,  to  the  light,  that  can  illume  the  soul. 
Hovi  can  another's  toil  give  vigour  to  my  muscles  ! 
How  can  the  intellectual  processes  of  Plato  or  of  Pliny 
develope  powers  of  thought,  in  me  ?  How  can  anoth- 
er's suffering  teach  me  patience?  Or,  another's  tri- 
umphs, give  me  the  victory  of  myself?  It  is  the  uni- 
versal law  of  moral  natures,  that,  in  the  use  of  God's 
endowments,   they   must    make,   or    mar,   themselves. 


266  IKFLTJENCE    WITHOUT   INTEEVENTIOJST, 

*'  As  a  man  tMnketh,  so  lie  is."  As  a  man  will  be,  so  lie 
may  be.  And  tlie  nation,  that  would  vindicate  its  free- 
dom ;  tlie  nation,  tliat  would  rise  to  greatness  ;  the  na- 
tion, that  would  soar  to  glory ;  must  bare  its  own  broad 
breast ;  must  nerve  its  own  strong  arm ;  must  imp  its  own 
swift  wing.     Must  come  to  be,  what  it,  first,  dared  to  be. 

"  Thy  Spirit,  Independence,  let  me  share. 
Lord  of  the  lion-heart  and  eagle  eye  : 
Thee  let  me  follow,  with  my  bosom  bare  ; 

Nor  heed  the  storm,  that  howls  along  the  sky." 

The  debt,  which,  as  a  nation,  then,  we  owe,  to  na- 
tions, is  not  the  debt  of  intervention ;  but,  of  influence. 
We  have  no  ri2:ht  to  intervene.  We  could  not  inter- 
vene,  and  keep  our  own  impregnable  equilibrium.  We 
could  do  no  good,  by  intervention.  Not,  without  rea- 
son, has  Almighty  God  made  us  a  nation,  l)y  ourselves ; 
and  given  us  a  hemisphere,  to  fill.  Not,  without  infi- 
nite wisdom,  has  it  been  given  to  us,  to  be,  "  like  a 
star,  and  dwell  apart."  The  central  sun,  that  holds  the 
planets  in  their  places,  and  drives  them  on  in  ever  cir- 
cling spheres,  itself,  is  but  a  star,  that  dwells  apart. 
Its  very  distance  is  its  powder.  Its  very  separateness  is 
its  true  sovereignty.  And,  so  it  is ;  precisely,  so,  with 
us.  The  figure  is  no  stronger  than  the  fact.  As  he  has 
said,  who  was  at  once  the  bravest,  wisest,  greatest,  man, 
"  the  very  foremost  man  of  all  the  world  " — a  curse 
must  fall  upon  this  land,  when  he,  who  was  "  first  in 
peace,"  and  "  first  in  war,"  ceases  to  be  "  first  in  the 
hearts  of  his  countrymen  " — as  George  Washington  has 
said,  "  Europe  has  a  set  of  primary  interests,  which  to 


THE   DUTY   OF    OUK   ISTATIOIS-   TO   THE   WORLD.         267 

US  liave  none,  or  a  very  remote  relation.  Hence,  slie 
must  be  engaged,  in  frequent  controversies,  tlie  causes 
of  wMcli  are  essentially  foreign,  to  our  concerns.  Hence, 
therefore,  it  must  be  unwise  in  us  to  imj)licate  our- 
selves, by  artificial  ties,  in  tlie  ordinary  vicissitudes  of 
her  politics,  or  the  ordinary  combinations  and  collisions 
of  her  friendships  or  enmities.  Our  detached  and  dis- 
tant situation  invites  and  enables  us,  to  pursue  a  differ- 
ent course."  "  Why  forego  the  advantages  of  so  pe- 
culiar a  situation  ?  Why  quit  our  own,  to  stand  upon 
foreign  ground?  Why,  by  interweaving  our  destiny 
with  that  of  any  part  of  Euro23e,  entangle  our  peace 
and  prosperity,  in  the  toils  of  European  ambition,  ri- 
valship,  interest,  humour,  or  caprice  ?  "  These  are  im- 
mortal words.  Immortal,  as  wisdom.  Immortal,  as 
freedom.  Immortal,  as  truth.  While  they  are  clung 
to,  with  the  other  precious  counsels  of  that  inimitable 
paper,  which  is  to  us  the  Will  and  Testament  of  him, 
who  was,  indeed,  the  Father  of  his  Country,  the  inde- 
pendence of  this  nation,  will  remain  impregnable  ;  and 
virtue  mil  go  out  from  it,  to  elevate  and  bless  the  races 
of  mankind.  And,  never  was  I  so  proud  of  my  own 
countrymen ;  never  had  I  such  confidence  in  the  Re- 
public ;  never  did  I  feel  so  strong  a  claim,  on  every  pa- 
triot of  America,  to  offer  thanks  and  praises  to  Al- 
mighty God,  as  when,  to  all  the  blandishments  of  elo- 
quence, and  all  the  impulses  of  feeling,  and  all  the 
promptings  of  ambition,  this  nation,  through  the  great 
men,  that  conduct  its  counsels,  first ;  and,  then,  by  the 
full,  free,  fervent,  undivided,  suffi'age  of  its  myiiads  and 


268       INFLUENCE  WITHOUT  INTEEVENTION, 

millions,  as  with  the  beating  of  one  mighty  heart,  re- 
fused to  recognize  the  claim,  for  foreign  intervention. 

But,  still,  there  is  a  debt  from  such  a  nation,  as  the 
Lord  God  has  made  us  to  be,  to  other  nations,  and  to 
all  mankind.  A  debt,  that  never  can  be  paid.  A  debt, 
that  grows  with  every  instalment  of  its  discharge.  The 
debt  of  influence,  as  a  free,  intelligent,  and  Christian 
nation.  The  influence  of  our  history ;  the  influence  of 
our  institutions  ;  the  influence  of  our  example. 

i.  The  influence  of  History,  is,  indeed,  a  mighty  and 
majestic  influence.  What  power,  in  the  mere  names  of 
Marathon,  Thermopylae  and  Leuctra !  What  power,  in 
the  mere  names  of  Cincinnatus,  Tell,  and  Bruce  !  And 
we  have  made  our  watchwords,  for  the  world.  We 
have  our  Bunker  Hill,  our  Saratoga,  our  Trenton,  and 
our  Yorktown.  We  have  our  Putnam  and  our  Hamil- 
ton ;  our  Hull  and  our  Decatur ;  our  Taylor  and  our 
Clay ;  our  Daniel  Webster  and  our  Winfield  Scott. 
The  history  of  our  Eevolution  is  unsurpassed,  in  glory. 
The  toils,  the  trials,  the  suflferings,  the  tears,  the  blood, 
by  which  our  independence  was  achieved  and  settled, 
are  far  "  beyond  all  Greek,  all  Roman  fame."  In  every 
nation  of  the  world,  its  date  must  find  a  place,  next  af- 
ter that,  which  gave  the  Saviour,  to  mankind.  And, 
the  paper  which  has  marked  this  day  with  glory,  is  to 
be  the  Magna  Charta  of  the  race.  Upon  us,  it  must  de- 
volve, that,  as  our  history  began,  it  shall  go  on.  The 
wisdom,  the  moderation,  the  integrity,  the  devotion,  the 
self-denial,  the  self-sacrifice,  of  seventeen  hundred  and 
seventy-six,  have  made  the  opening  chapters  of  our  his- 


THE   DUTY    OF    OUR   ]SrATIOj>f   TO   THE   WORLD.         269 

tory,  as  hard  to  emulate,  as  they  are  worthy  of  our 
emulation.  The  eyes  of  the  whole  world  are  upon  us. 
And  we  shall  shame  our  sires,  and  dispossess  our  sons, 
if  we  permit  one  blot  to  fall  upon  the  glorious  page, 
that  chronicles  the  wars,  and  brightens  with  the  fame, 
of  Washington. 

ii.  Even  more  important,  in  discharging  our  great 
obligations,  to  mankind,  is  the  influence  of  our  Institu- 
tions. A  wisdom,  more  than  human,  inspii^ed  the  coun- 
sels of  the  Founders  and  Framers  of  our  Government. 
The  heavenly  grace,  which  Franklin  urged  them  to  in- 
voke, was  freely  poured  upon  their  hearts.  The  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States,  after  a  trial  of  almost 
seventy  years ;  through  all  the  vicissitudes  of  peace 
and  war,  of  poverty  and  plenty,  of  prosperity  and  ad- 
versity ;  maintains  its  marvellous  equipoise ;  expands, 
with  the  expansion  of  our  country ;  strengthens,  with 
the  multiplication  of  our  inhabitants ;  is  equal  to  every 
emergency ;  is  superior  to  every  assault ;  spans  our 
wide  continent,  as  one  triumphal  arch,  laved,  at  one 
base,  by  the  Atlantic,  and,  by  the  Pacific,  at  the  other ; 
and  sheds,  on  five  and  twenty  millions  of  jfreemen,  the 
light,  the  peace,  the  joy,  the  unity,  the  indivisibility,  of 
perfect  freedom.  To  om*  children,  and  our  children's 
children,  and  their  children's  children,  "  an  inheritance, 
for  ever."  To  the  nations  of  mankind,  the  bow,  which 
God,  Himself,  has  set,  to  span  the  sky ;  and  tell  them, 
that,  for  them,  the  days  of  tyranny  are  numbered ;  that, 
for  them,  the  storm  will  shortly  pass ;  that,  for  them, 
the  light  of  freedom  soon  will  spread  upon  the  mouu- 


270       INFLUENCE  WITHOUT  INTEEVENTION, 

tains ;  and  tlieir  joy,  as  freemen,  be,  as  theirs,  who  bring 
the  harvest  home. 

"  O  thus  be  it  ever  "  where  "  freemen  shall  stand, 

Between  their  loved  home,  and  the  war's  desolation  ; 
Bless'd  with  victory  and  peace,  may  the  heaven-rescued  land 

Praise  the  Power,  that  hath  made  and  preserved,"  it  "  a  nation. 
For  conquer  "  they  "  must,"  when  their  cause  shall  be  just, 
While  this  is  their  motto,  '  In  God  is  our  trust ; ' 
And  the  star-spangled  banner,  in  triumph,  shall  wave, 
O'er  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home  of  the  brave." 

iii.  And  one  more  form  of  influence,  there  is,  for 
which  we  are  all  debtors,  to  mankind,  the  influence  of 
our  example.  "  A  city,  set  upon  a  hill,  cannot  be  hid." 
Men,  that  are  walking  in  the  clear,  calm,  cool,  transpar- 
ent, mountain  light  of  fi^eedom,  must  be  content,  to  have 
their  attitudes  and  actions  scanned  and  scrutinized. 
The  eyes  of  men  are  turned  on  us.  Whether  the  na- 
tions, that  are  grinding  in  the  prison-house,  or  groping 
in  the  gloom,  shall  see  the  light,  and  win  theii'  freedom, 
rests  with  us.  The  Spartans  made  the  Helots  drunk, 
to  warn  their  childi'en,  against  drunkenness.  And,  if 
the  pride  of  power,  and  plenty  of  prosperity,  shall 
madden  us,  "with  their  intoxication,  we  shall  but  brutal- 
ize ourselves,  and  fright  the  nations,  by  our  fate.  "  He 
is  the  freeman,  whom  the  truth  makes  free."  And,  only, 
"  where  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,"  is  true  "  liberty." 
Only,  as  we  make  the  law  of  God  our  rule ;  conform 
our  lives  to  the  divine  and  perfect  pattern  of  His  Son ; 
and  sink  our  selfishness  and  self  sufficiency,  in  the  desire 
to  honour  Him,  by  doing  good  to  other  men,  shall  we 


THE   DUTY   OF   OUR   NATIOJS^   TO    THE    WORLD.         271 

approve  ourselves  His  freemen ;  perpetuate  the  freedom 
He  has  granted ;  and  make  the  world  in  love  with  it, 
and  sharers  of  its  blessings. 

Upon  the  young,  who  hear  me,  the  reliance,  chiefly, 
is,  that  these  things  may  be  so.  To  the  annual  streams, 
that  are  to  go  forth,  from  this  living  fountain,  we  com- 
mit a  sacred  trust.  The  College,  where  their  youth  is 
nurtured,  blends  the  kindred  weaves  of  patriotism  and 
piety.  Founded  upon  the  Rock,  Christ  Jesus,  it  com- 
bines the  sacred  interests  of  country  and  of  Church. 
Next  to  the  holy  Festivals,  which  Christendom  devotes, 
to  the  commemoration  of  the  Christ,  who  made  her 
Christendom,  we  cherish  the  birth-day  of  our  Inde- 
pendence, and  the  birth-day  of  our  Washington.  To- 
day, a  noble  name,  among  the  few,  that  men  have  borne, 
worthy  a  place  with  his,  lies,  sadly,  on  our  hearts.  The 
venerable  dust  of  Henry  Clay  has  not  yet  reached  its 
resting-place,  beneath  the  shades  of  Ashland.  A  na- 
tion's tears  sadden,  to-day,  a  nation's  joy.  A  leaf  of 
cypress  mingles  with  the  laurel  wreath,  to-day.  The 
stars  rise,  clouded,  to  our  eye.  And,  with  the  stripes-, 
funereal  crape  is  blended  It  is  well,  for  us,  that  it 
should  be  so.  "  It  is  good,"  for  nations,  as  it  is  for  men, 
"  to  be  afflicted."  They  learn,  so,  to  "  cease  from  man, 
whose  breath  is  in  his  nostrils."  They  are  taught,  so, 
that  for  nations,  as  for  men,  the  only  trust  is,  in  the 
living  God.  They  are  admonished,  so,  that  "  men  must 
die  :  principles  never."  The  heroes  of  the  Revolution 
are  all  gone.  The  giants  of  the  next  age  are  passing, 
from  among  us.     The  third  act  of  the  great  drama  of 


21 '2  INFLUENCE  WITHOUT  INTEEVENTION,  ETC. 

the  nation  hastens  to  its  close.  In  the  next,  you  that 
are  gathered,  here,  must  be  among  the  actors.  I  would 
have  you  lay  to  heart  the  solemn  and  impressive 
thought.  I  would  have  you  look,  with  reverent  admi- 
ration, on  the  shadows,  that  are  flitting,  by  you,  to  the 
grave.  I  would  have  you  emulate  their  vii^tues,  and 
realize  their  examj)le.  Imitate  their  manliness.  Imi- 
tate their  moderation.  Imitate  their  patriotism.  Swear, 
to-day,  to  be  true,  as  they  were,  to  the  Republic.  Bless 
God,  to-day,  for  the  treasure  of  their  service,  and  the 
inheritance  of  their  example.  Pray  to  God,  to-day, 
that,  in  none  of  you,  their  fame  may  suffer  loss ;  that, 
by  each  of  you,  according  to  his  measure,  the  void, 
which  they  have  left,  may  be  filled  up  ;  that,  through 
each  of  you,  the  light  of  Christian  Freedom  may  pass 
on,  imdimmed.  Noblest,  among  the  torch-bearers  of 
liberty,  was  he,  who,  to  the  services  of  fifty  glorious 
years,  added,  as  its  becoming  crown,  and  consumma- 
tion, his  dying  testimony,  to  the  lesson,  which  his  life 
exemplified,  and  which  I  have  sought  to  teach,  to-day : 

that  INFLUENCE,  WITHOUT  INTEEVENTION,  IS  THE  DUTY  OF 
OUE  NATION,  TO  THE  WOELD. 

"  Praise  to  the  man  !     A  nation  stood, 
Beside  his  coffin,  with  wet  eyes  ; 
Her  brave,  her  beautiful,  her  good, 
As  when  a  loved  one  dies." 

"  And  consecrated  ground,  it  is  ; 

The  last,  the  hallowed  home,  of  one, 
Who  lives,  upon  our  memories  ; 
Though,  with  the  buried,  gone." 


TE. 


THE  YOUNG  AMERICAN :   HIS  DANGERS, 
HIS  DUTIES,  AND  HIS  DESTINIES. 

*  THE  SEVENTH  FOURTH  OF  JULY  ORATION  AT  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 

It  cannot  be  questioned,  for  a  moment,  that  there 
are  geographical  responsibilities.  Peculiarities  of  posi- 
tion, peculiarities  of  climate,  peculiar  j)olitical  institu- 
tions, historical  peculiarities,  create,  continue,  and  enforce, 
local  relations  and  national  duties ;  in  a  word,  geogra- 
phical RESPONSIBILITIES.  It  is  the  sentiment  of  that  old 
Laconian  adage,  "  ^naqrav  tXa^tz  ravruv  xoOf-iuy 
Sparta  is  your  hirtliplace  :  mahe  it  your  pride  to  honour 
it.  It  kindled  in  St.  Paul's  great  heart,  when,  to  the 
chief  captain  at  Jerusalem,  who  gloried  in  the  Roman 
citizenship,  which  he  had  obtained,  for  "  a  great  sum," 
he  answered,  with  sublime  sententiousness,  "  But  I  was 
born  free  !  "  And,  how  it  blazed,  in  those  few  burning 
words,  which  old  Hugh  Latimer  spoke,  to  his  brother 
Bishop,  at  the  stake,  "  Be  of  good  cheer.  Master  Ridley, 
and  play  the  man ;  we  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle, 
by  God's  grace,  in  England,  as  shall  never  be  put  out." 

*  A.  D.  1853. 
VOL.  IV. 18 


274  THE   TOUISTG  A]VIERICA]Sr. 

It  is  tlie  very  spirit  of  what  David  sang  to  his  angelic 
liai'p,  in  that  proudest  paean,  which  patriotism  ever 
prompted :  "  Jerusalem  is  built  as  a  city,  that  is  at  unity 
in  itself."  "  O,  pray  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem ;  they 
shall  j^rosper,  that  love  thee.  Peace  be  within  thy 
walls,  and  plenteousness  within  thy  palaces.  For  my 
brethren  and  companions'  sake,  I  will  wish  thee  pros- 
perity." The  sentiment,  of  which  I  speak,  with  its 
resulting  duties  and  resj^onsibilities,  is  as  true  of  America, 
as  it  ever  was  of  Sparta,  Rome  or  England.  I  shall  not 
be  extravagant  to  claim  for  it  a  deeper  and  a  truer  tinith ; 
more  stringent  and  more  urgent.  For,  in  the  first  place, 
the  accountability  of  every  nation  is  in  exact  proportion 
to  its  capacity  for  influence,  "with  other  nations.  And, 
in  the  second  place,  the  whole  amount  of  a  nation's 
responsibilities  is  distributed  among  its  citizens,  in  the 
exact  ratio  of  their  several  capacities  for  influence.  The 
chronological  position  of  this  nation  among  the  tides 
of  time ;  its  geographical  situation,  between  the  two 
great  oceans,  bridging  the  sjDace  which  separates  them ; 
its  vast  extent ;  its  various  and  infinite  resources ;  the 
expansive  nature  of  its  free  institutions ;  with  the 
immense  machinery,  which  science  puts  at  its  command, 
through  steam  and  magnetism,  combine  to  confer  on  it 
an  influence,  which  never  yet  has  been  attained  by  any 
nation :  combine,  therefore,  to  lay  on  us,  who  are  its 
citizens,  an  individual  responsibility,  which  never  fell 
before  on  the  inhabitants  of  any  countiy.  I  23ropose, 
to-day,  and  here,  to  look  this  serious  subject  faii'ly  in 
the  face.     It  is  the  day  to  do  it :  for  it  is  the  anniversary 


THE   YOUKG-   AMEEICAN.  275 

of  that,  wHch,  seven-and-seventy  years  ago,  first  made 
America,  a  name  among  the  nations.  It  is  tlie  place  to 
do  it :  for  liere  we  train  up  young  Americans.  More 
than  enough,  we  have  all  heard  of  "  Young  America." 
I  come  to  speak  to  you,  my  friends,  of  Young  Ameei- 
CAXS.     The  theme  of  my  discourse,  to-day,  will  be 

THE  YOUNG  AMERICAN ; 

HIS   DANGERS,    HIS   DUTIES,    AND   HIS   DESTINIES. 

I.  Young  people  do  not  like  to  hear  of  dangers ;  for 
the  very  reason  that  they  are  more  exposed  to  them,  and 
are  least  competent  to  meet  them.  But  their  elders  must 
be  faithful ;  and,  at  the  risk  of  being  regarded  tedious, 
must  forewarn  them  of  the  perils  of  their  lot.  Esj)ecially, 
must  I  be  faithful  to  the  Young  Americans,  who  are 
assembled  here :  honoured,  as  I  have  been,  with  the 
most  sacred  trust  that  human  life  confers  ;  and  held,  as 
I  am,  by  all  the  pledges  of  a  man,  a  father,  and  a  Bishop, 
to  train  them  up,  as  j)atriots  and  Christians. 

i.  The  most  immediate  dais'ger  of  the  Young 
American  is  over-estimation  of  himself.  It  is  incident 
to  a  young  nation.  It  is  incident  to  a  prosj)erous  nation. 
It  is  especially  incident  to  a  nation,  so  prosperous,  while 
it  is  yet  so  young.  There  is  a  moral  atmosphere  devel- 
oped in  such  circumstances,  akin  to  what  the  chemists 
call  the  nitrous-oxide,  or  exhilaratins;  o;as.  It  mounts 
into  every  head,  and  lifts  it  quite  above  itself.  The  nation 
is  run  away  with  by  it.  It  touches  the  grave  statesman, 
and  the  hero  of  a  hundred  fights.  We  boast  instinctively. 
AYe  are  l^orn,  boasting.     It  cannot  be  that  young  men 


276  THE   YOUNG   AMEBIC  AN. 

will  not  catcli  the  ej^idemic  of  the  nation ;  and  run  riot. 
in  self-esteem  and  self  reliance.  There  is  no  tendency 
more  dangerous,  as  there  is  none  more  disagreeable. 
True  greatness  lives  with  deep  humility.  The  best 
exponent  of  a  man,  for  deeds  of  valour  and  of  enterprise, 
is  that  of  our  gallant  Miller ;  when,  directed  to  a  desj)er- 
ate  attempt,  by  his  commander,  he  replied,  "  I'll  try, 
sir  !  "  And  he  did  it.  The  Young  Americans,  whom  I 
address,  I  earnestly  exhort,  to  watch  themselves,  in  this 
behalf;  and  to  chastise  this  over- weening  estimate  of 
self  A  quiet  moderation  is  the  surest  token  of  the 
greatest  moral  energy.  You  see  it  in  that  greatest  man 
of  modern  times,  who  was,  for  half  a  century,  the  bul- 
wark of  his  country's  greatness ;  and  whom  a  weeping 
nation  buried,  but  the  other  day,  beneath  the  dome  of 
old  St.  Paul's :  her  Wellin2:ton,  beside  her  Nelson. 
You  see  it,  even  more  conspicuous,  in  our  greater  Wash- 
ington. Scrutinize  his  career,  criticize  his  letters, 
anatomize  his  character.  You  cannot  find  one  trace  of 
self  conceit.  You  cannot  find  one  trait  of  self  reliance. 
To  his  well-balanced  greatness,  his  wise  humility,  his 
true  heroic  modesty,  we  owe,  through  God,  our  freedom 
and  our  power.  The  qualities  that  won  them  are  the 
qualities  to  keep  them ;  and  to  make  them  fruitful 
throuo'h  the  world  and  throuerh  the  ag-es,  in  blessino;s  on 
mankind. 

ii.  A  kindred  dangee,  the  result  of  this,  to  which 
the  Young  American  is  liable,  is  haste.  The  progress 
of  this  nation  has  been  so  rapid,  that  time  has  seemed 
to  be  of  no  importance  to  it.       And,  then,  the  whole 


THE   YOUNG    AMEEICAN.  277 

macTiinery  of  tlie  age  aims,  as  near  as  may  be,  at  its 
anniliilation.  But  tliis  is  very  dangerous.  When  God 
made  tlie  world.  He  made  it  in  six  days.  It  miglit 
have  sprung  as  instantaneous  as  the  light.  And,  when 
He  would  complete  the  plan  of  its  redemption,  He  took 
four  thousand  years  for  the  develojoement  of  that,  which, 
in  the  counsels  of  the  Godhead,  was  complete,  before  the 
Fall.  These  are  lessons  to  our  hearts.  No  real  great- 
ness is  spontaneous.  The  oak  is  not  the  monarch  of 
the  woods,  short  of  a  thousand  years.  And  man,  the 
monarch  of  the  world,  is  first  an  embryo  ;  and  then  an 
infant ;  and  then  a  child ;  and  has  half-measured  his 
allotted  years,  before  he  is  full  grown.  'No  matter  in 
what  it  is — in  letters,  in  science,  in  art,  in  war,  in  govern- 
ment, in  any  thing  that  is  to  be  for  real  greatness — time 
must  be  taken ;  and  deliberate  thought  and  patient 
labour  be  employed.  Think  of  the  studies  of  Sir  Isaac 
Newton.  Think  of  the  touches  of  Raphael.  Think  of 
the  chisel  of  Canova.  See,  by  what  lengthened  process, 
Rome  grew  up  to  be  the  mistress  of  the  world.  Con- 
template the  slow  march  of  England's  greatness.  And 
remember  how  the  Fathers  of  our  Republic  waited,  and 
watched,  and  toiled,  and  prayed,  before  the  houi'  was 
reached,  that  consecrates  this  day.  And,  then,  pursue 
their  blood-stained  footsteps,  through  the  seven  years' 
war,  by  which  the  issues  of  that  hour  were  consummated 
and  made  perpetual.  The  Young  American  that  would 
do  justice  to  his  name,  must  learn  to  wait.  What  he 
can  do  well  off-hand,  he  can  do  better  with  deliberation. 
There  is  no  royal  road  to  real  greatness  ;  and,  if  there 


278  THE   YOUNG   AJIEEICAK 

were,  republicans  sliould  not  adopt  it.  We  have 
greater  issues,  in  our  hands,  tlian  ever  came  before  tlie 
Congress  at  Vienna.  And  tliey  are  in  our  hands  /  witb 
only  God  above  us.  Here,  only,  of  all  nations  of  the 
world,  the  voice  of  every  man  may  be  potential.  And, 
on  us,  it  is  incumbent,  above  all  other  nations,  to  aim 
at  doing  the  most,  not  only,  but  at  doing  it  the  best. 
The  Young  American  must  study.  The  Young  Ameri- 
can must  ^vork.  The  Youns:  American  must  wait.  He 
must  not  hasten  to  be  wise,  or  to  be  rich,  or  to  be  great. 
God  never  hastens.  "  P aliens^  quia  eternusP  Patient, 
because  eternal. 

iii.  The  third  of  the  peculiar  dangees  of  the  Young 
American,  and  the  last,  that  I  shall  now  mention,  is  the 
tendency  to  violence.  From  liberty  to  license,  though 
as  utterly  unlike  as  light  and  darkness,  the  progress  is 
too  easy,  and  too  rapid.  The  overestimate  of  self,  the 
impatience  of  time,  the  strong  arm,  with  blood  ujDon  the 
hand :  these  are  the  natural  steps  to  recklessness  and 
ruin.  It  is  a  sad  confession,  that  our  national  character 
has  rushed,  with  fearful  haste,  to  this  red,  ruthless, 
refuge  of  om'  maddened  nature.  Not  a  day,  that  does 
not  bring  to  us  the  record  of  some  deed  of  blood.  I  do 
not  speak  of  midnight  murders,  and  the  violence  of 
drunken  and  licentious  brawls :  but  of  the  fierce  out- 
break of  the  passions,  among  those  who,  l^y  the  hostages 
which  they  have  given  to  life ;  the  trust  which  they  are 
holding  for  their  kind ;  the  leading  men  of  the  republic 
— its  statesmen,  its  judges,  its  senators — are  responsible 
for  the  best  example  and  the  holiest  influence.     I  mean 


THE  YOUNG  AlVIEEICAlSr.  2*79 

no  sectional  reflection.  If  tlie  destructive  tendency,  of 
wliicli  I  speak,  prevails  more  in  some  quarters  tlian  in 
others,  it  is  common,  everywhere ;  and  is  spreading, 
from  the  focus,  all  around.  And,  wherever  it  prevails, 
it  is  in  dereliction  of  the  same  social  duties  and  relia;- 
ious  obligations ;  and  ruinous  alike  to  our  national 
character,  and  to  om*  political  institutions.  Nor  does 
the  evil  rest  in  private  circles,  or  confine  itself  to  streets 
and  neighbourhoods.  It  infects  the  councils  of  the  Re- 
public. It  embarrasses  the  deliberations  of  the  Cabinet. 
It  threatens  to  involve  the  nation,  and  perplex  the 
world.  It  is  an  evil  of  the  greatest  magnitude.  It 
needs  our  utmost  vigilance,  our  best  exertions,  our  most 
fervent  prayers.  Especially,  must  it  be  urged  on  Young 
Americans  to  keep  themselves  from  violence  and  blood. 
There  is  a  tiger,  in  our  fallen  nature,  which  is  ever  ready 
to  rush  on  to  rapine.  It  must  be  watched,  and  curbed, 
and  crucified,  and  killed  :  or  it  will  have  its  wild,  mad 
way.  Youth  is  the  time  to  meet  and  mortify  this  fearful 
eAal.  The  brawling  and  contentious  boy  will  harden  into 
the  man  of  butchery  and  blood.  The  meek,  the  gentle, 
the  patient,  the  self-controlled,  in  youth,  mil  be  the 
firm,  the  fearless,  the  indomitable,  in  manhood.  Such 
David  was ;  and  such  was  Washington. 

II.  i.  It  is  the  DUTY  of  the  Youno;  American  to  culti- 
vate  his  mind^  to  the  full  extent  of  his  best  opportunities ; 
not  suffering  his  phijsical  strength  to  he  neglected  and 
impaired.  Nowhere,  as  in  America,  is  general  intelli- 
gence so  accessible,  and  so  influential.      Nowhere,  is 


280  THE   YOUNG   AMEBIC  AN. 

ignorance  so  disgraceful,  and  so  dangerous.     All,  it  is 
true,  cannot  attain  to  wliat  is  justly  called  a  liberal  edu- 
cation.    But  there  is  opportunity  for  some  degree  of  it, 
to  all.     The    only  limit    should  be  the    opportunity. 
And,  for  the  most  part,  the  resolved  nature  makes  its 
opportunities.      There  is  a  tendency  among  us  to  lower 
the  standard  of  education.     There  is  a  fallacy,  even  in 
places  where  one  would  not  think  to  find  it,  that,  by 
aiming  lower,  and  spreading  out  more  widely,  a  greater 
result  will  be  obtained.      As  if  the  broad,  low  wash, 
that  sleej)s  so  sluggishly  in  Holland,  were  as  available  for 
healthful  use,  and  wholesome  distribution,  as  the  fresh 
springs  of  oui'  Alleghanian  ranges.     As  if  the  streams 
of  learning,  any  more  than  streams  of  water,  would  run 
up  above  their  source.     Rely  upon  it,  to  depress  the 
grade  of  learning,  is  to  weaken  its  power,  and  lessen  its 
influence.     Smattering  comes  of  it,  and  superficialness, 
and  sciolism.    To  bring  together  the  most  favoured,  and 
the  least,  level  these  up,  rather  than  bring  those  down. 
Where  the  colleges  attain  the  highest  reach  of  useful 
learning,  the  academies  will  come  the  neai'est,  and  the 
common  schools  do  best.     In  the  first  place,  you  can 
command   the  ablest  teachers ;  and,  in  the  second,  you 
offer  the  greatest  stimulus.     What  is  of  easy  acquisition 
is  of  light  a2:)preciation.      Difficulty  stimulates  exertion. 
The  mushroom  comes  up,  in  the  night :  but  never  is 
more  than  a  mushroom.      Let  the  Youno;  American 
labour  for  the  highest  education  he  can  reach :  at  college, 
if  he  can  get  there  ;  if  not,  at  the  best  school.     When 
there  is  no  school  for  him,  there  is  Franklin's  garret 


THE   YOUNG   AMEEICAT^.  281 

above  Mm,  and  Franklin's  example  before  liim.  The 
great  Samuel  Lee,  Professor  of  Arabic,  in  tlie  University 
of  Cambridge,  ^vas  a  journeyman  carpenter.  But  lie 
loved  learning ;  and  lie  pursued  it,  as  lovers  do.  When 
lie  had  earned  enouQ-h,  he  bous-ht  a  book :  when  he  had 
mastered  it,  he  sold  it,  and  procured  another ;  and  so  on. 
And  he  became  among  the  most  distinguished  of  the 
learned  men  of  Europe.  It  is  a  lesson  which  every  one 
may  learn,  and  every  one  apply :  and  with  so  much 
more  ease  at  this  time,  when  books  are  so  accessible  and 
cheap.  Only,  let  the  Young  American  eschew  the  light 
and  fashionable  reading  of  the  day.  The  best  of  it  is 
syllabub  and  sugar  candy.  Too  much  of  it  is  arsenic 
and  prussic  acid. 

It  is  a  fault  of  Young  Americans,  to  neglect,  and  so 
abuse,  their  physical  constitution :  and,  unhappily,  it 
is  not  confined  to  the  industrious  student.  The  hours 
of  recreation,  when  the  mind  should  be  relieved,  and 
the  body  invigorated,  are  given  to  the  last  novel :  and 
health  and  strength  are  wasted,  while  the  mind  is  diluted, 
and  the  moral  principle  perplexed,  if  not  perverted. 
Our  English  scholars  set  a  good  example  to  the  Young 
American.  The  brisk  and  animating  walk,  the  athletic 
cricket  ground,  the  contest  of  the  oar :  these  are  the 
tonics  of  their  vigorous  arm  ;  these  the  developements  of 
their  broad,  manly  chest ;  these  the  cosmetics  of  their 
fresh  and  glowing  cheek. 

ii.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  Youns;  American  to  imbue 
himself  with  the  principles  of  the  Constitution.  Party 
divisions  are  the  danger  of  our  day ;   and  parties,  now, 


282  THE   YOUNG   AMERICAlSr. 

no  more  for  princij)les,  but  for  the  spoils.  It  is  a  morti- 
fying thing,  to  say  that  our  present  administration,  to 
which  I  cheerfully  accord  my  unreserving  confidence, 
has  spent  more  time,  and  taken  more  trouble,  in  the 
distribution  of  the  offices  under  the  government,  than  in 
considering  the  domestic  interests  and  foreign  policy  of 
the  country.  I  do  not  lay  it  to  them,  as  an  administra- 
tion. It  is  the  sin  and  shame  of  the  times.  Govern- 
ment has  really  come  to  be  considered  as  an  institution 
to  distribute  patronage.  And,  this,  in  six-and-sixty 
years.  I  seriously  regard  it  as  the  most  disgraceful  and 
most  dangerous  error  of  the  age.  Unless  it  be  reformed, 
it  will  fii'st  corrupt,  and  then  destroy,  the  republic. 
The  remedy  for  it  is  in  the  simple,  earnest,  child-like 
reference  to  the  Constitution.  I  do  not  think  it  a 
misuse  of  sacred  history,  to  say,  this  is  the  wood  by 
which  the  bitter  waters  of  our  Marah  must  be  sweetened. 
Offices,  indeed,  there  must  be,  to  carry  on  a  government : 
but  office  is  the  instrument,  alone  ;  and  they  who  hold 
it,  but  the  incidents.  The  end  is  the  public  vu'tue  and 
the  public  happiness.  The  hmnan  means,  the  faithful 
application  of  the  principles  of  our  incomparal^le  Consti- 
tution. Such,  of  a  truth,  it  is.  A  legacy  from  our  fore- 
fathers, scarcely  second  to  the  freedom,  which  enabled 
them  to  make  it ;  and  to  perj)etuate  which  it  was  made. 
Let  the  Young  American  study  the  Constitution.  Let 
him  acquaint  himself  with  its  history.*     Let  him  imbue 

*  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  alluding  to  the  admirable  Address,  be- 
fore the  Constitutional  Convention  of  New  Jersey,  by  the  Hon.  Kichard  Stockton 
Field.  I  have  already  challenged  him  to  produce  from  his  rich  store,  a  volume, 
for  our  young  men.     It  should  be  the  Field-Book  of  the  Constitution. 


THE    YOUNG   AMEEICAN.  283 

himself  witli  its  j^rinciples  ;  let  liini  contemplate  tliem 
in  action,  as  they  were  seen  and  felt,  in  Adams,  Hancock, 
Franklin,  "Washington.  And  let  him  resolve  to  live  by 
it,  as  they  did ;  and,  if  need  be,  to  die  for  it,  as  they 
were  prepared  to  do.  So  shall  it  be  worth  while  to  be 
Americans.  So  shall  the  name  of  Young  American  go 
down  to  after  ages,  "  an  inheritance  forever."  And  so 
shall  other  names  and  other  nations,  while  they  admire 
our  virtues,  be  emulous  of  our  example ;  until  Ameri- 
can shall  be  the  watchword  and  the  war-cry  of  true  lib- 
erty, throughout  the  world. 

iii.  It  is  the  duty  of  the  Young  American  to  aim 
at  the  highest  moral  excellence.  The  utmost  learning, 
that  the  lono-est  life  could  realize,  would  fail  to  make  a 
man.  Nor  is  it  in  the  power,  even  of  our  incomparable 
Constitution,  to  make  or  keep  men  free. 

"  He  is  a  freeman,  whom  the  Truth  makes  free ; 
And  all  are  slaves,  besides," 

Temper,  passion,  lust,  avarice,  revenge  :  these,  and  the 
like,  are  the  enslavers  of  our  race.  Look  at  Antony, 
in  the  arms  of  Cleopatra.  Look  at  Napoleon,  among 
the  rocks  of  St.  Helena.  Look  at  the  Shylocks,  who 
have  shut  their  souls  up  in  their  iron  chests.  Look  at 
the  petty  tyi'ants,  who  make  their  homes,  hells,  to 
themselves,  and  all  that  groan  under  their  sway.  The 
freeman  must  have  conquered,  first,  himself.  The  love 
of  money,  the  love  of  honour,  the  love  of  pleasure,  are 
instincts  of  our  fallen  nature,  and  tramplers  on  the  ruins 
of  its  fall.     The  young  American,  who  would  do  just 


284  THE   YOUNG   AMEBIC  AN. 

lionour  to  Ms  noble  name,  must  vindicate  himself  from 
these.  He  must  subdue  liis  passions ;  lie  must  control 
his  tempers ;  he  must  regulate  his  desires.  "  Whatso- 
ever things  are  true,  whatsoever  things  are  honest, 
whatsoever  things  are  just,  whatsoever  things  are  pure, 
whatsoever  things  are  lovely,  whatsoever  things  are  of 
good  report :  if  there  be  any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any 
praise,"  he  must  "  think  on  these  things." 

iv.  And,  that  all  these  things  may  be  so,  since  other- 
wise they  cannot  be ;  it  is  the  duty  of  the  young  Ameri- 
can to  sanctify  liimself^  his  attainments^  and  Ids  oppor- 
tunities^ hy  religious  principles^  professed  and  acted  on. 
All  other  hopes  and  uses  are  in  vain,  to  these  great 
ends.  "  It  is  not  in  man  that  walketh  to  direct  his  steps." 
To  purchase  freedom  for  the  race,  the  redemption  of  the 
Cross  was  necessarj^  To  achieve  the  freedom  of  the 
individual,  the  sanctification  of  the  Spirit  must  be  added. 
That  is  of  universal  truth  which  David  says  :  "  Where- 
withal shall  a  young  man  cleanse  his  way  ?  Even  by 
taking  heed  thereto,  according  to  Thy  word."  The 
young  American  that  is  not  "  the  child  of  God,"  must 
disappoint  the  hopes  of  his  inheritance,  towards  others ; 
and  find  them  disappointed  in  himself  The  wood,  the 
hay,  the  stubble,  the  earthly,  the  human,  the  mortal, 
called  by  whatever  name,  will  perish  in  the  fire,  by 
which  our  nature  must  be  tried.  Only  the  gold,  the 
pure,  the  virgin  gold,  will  bear  the  fiercest  furnace ; 
and  come  purer  from  the  flame.  To  dare  to  be  religious, 
in  an  evil  world,  is  the  true  daring  of  the  soul.  And 
to  confess  the  Crucified  and  bear  His  Cross,  in  meekness, 


THE   YOUNG   AMEBIC  AN.  285 

but  in  unslirinking  firmness,  among  men,  is  to  subdue 
the  world,  and  conquer  by  that  sign. 

III.  Who  shall  attempt  to  sketch  the  destinies  of 
young  Americans,  who  shall  avoid  these  dangeks,  and 
discharge,  in  good  fidelity,  these  duties  to  their  counfry 
and  their  kind  1  Suppose  this  picture  could  be  realized, 
but  in  the  little  band,  who  gather  in  these  walls.  Sup- 
pose that  you,  my  children,  could  go  forth  from  these 
academic  shades  of  patriotism  and  piety,  to  be  the 
Young  Americans,  whom  I  have  drawn.  What  firmer 
compact,  than  the  Macedonian  phalanx  ever  reached. 
What  steadier  progress.  What  more  glorious  victory  ! 
And  should  it  be  so,  and  the  banner  which  you  raise, 
where  the  dear  Cross  should  sanctify  the  Stars  and 
Stripes,  become  the  rallying  flag  of  Young  Americans, 
throughout  the  land,  what  measure  to  the  influence  for 
good.  What  limit  to  the  power  to  bless  !  Think  of 
the  time,  when  you  are  called  to  being  and  to  duty. 
Think  of  the  land,  where  God  has  cast  your  lot.  Think 
of  the  Constitution,  and  the  principles,  of  which  you 
are  to  become  the  trustees  for  your  kind.  The  stage  of 
life,  upon  which  you  enter,  is  a  continent.  The  guns, 
which  ushered  in  this  morning,  rolled  their  thunders, 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  The  Star-spangled 
Banner,  which  is  unfurled,  to-day,  is  wreathing  itself 
into  a  rainbow ;  which  rests  upon  two  oceans,  and 
encompasses  a  hemisphere.  What  lands  are  to  be  peo- 
pled !     What  seas,  what  bays,  what  lakes,  are  to  be 


286  THE   YOUNG   AMEBIC AIST. 

traversed !  WJiat  rivers  are  to  be  briclcred !  What 
mountains  are  to  be  tunnelled  !  Wliat  myriads  are  to 
be  taught  ?  What  millions  are  to  be  saved  !  See  how 
our  Commerce  is  extending,  to  the  Southern  half  of  this 
great  Continent,  the  principles  of  our  institutions,  and 
the  influence  of  our  manners.  See  how  the  Chinamen 
are  meeting  us,  half  way,  at  San  Francisco.  See  how 
the  Commerce  of  all  Europe  and  all  Asia  is  settling 
upon  our  Republic,  as  the  channel  for  its  transit,  or  the 
mart  for  its  accumulation.  See  how  the  heathen  hordes 
of  the  whole  Eastern  world  are  opening  for  us  the  way 
to  preach  to  them  the  Gospel  of  Salvation,  and  to  out- 
value to  them  "  the  wealth  of  Ormus  and  the  Inde,"  by 
"  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ."  See,  too,  how,  at 
this  great  juncture,  in  commerce  and  religion,  the  arts 
are  tasked,  the  elements  are  chained,  the  powers  of 
Heaven  are  enlisted,  to  overcome  all  difficulties,  and 
make  impossibilities  possible.  What  a  field  for  energy, 
for  enterprise,  for  valour  !  What  a  field  for  the  triumphs 
of  science,  the  trophies  of  civilization,  the  conquests  of 
the  Cross  !  What  a  field,  what  a  boundless  field,  what 
a  glorious  field,  for  young  Americans  !  Gird  up  your 
loins,  dear  children  of  my  hearth  and  heart,  to  enter  in, 
and  occupy  it.  "  Be  sober,  be  vigilant ;  "  "  quit  you 
like  men,  be  strong."  Lead  on,  in  Christ's  name,  and 
for  His  Church,  the  vanguard  of  the  march  of  civil  and 
religious  freedom.  Remember  the  Cross  upon  your 
brow.  Be  mindful  of  the  Bible  in  your  hands.  Go 
to  be  comforts  to  your  homes,  and  blessings  to  your 


THE   YOUNG   AMERICAN.  287 

country,  and  lights  to  your  age.  Go,  to  be  freemen  of 
tlie  Cross,  and  patterns  of  your  times,  in  patience,  and 
peacefulness,  and  purity.  Go,  and  approve  yourselves, 
in  patriotism  and  piety,  as  worthy  to  be  Young 
Ameeicans. 


Yin. 

E  PLUKIBUS  UNUM. 

*  THE  EIGHTH  FOURTH  OF  JULY  ORATION  AT  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 

^VEEYBODY  has  lieai'd  of  "  tlie  Gentleman's  Maga- 
zine," whicli  Edward  Cave  establislied,  in  London,  in 
1731 ;  whicli  lias  been  edited,  now,  one  hundred  and 
tw^enty-three  years,  under  tlie  name  of  "  Sylvanus  Ur- 
ban, Gentleman ; "  and,  for  whose  earlier  pages,  the 
great  Samuel  Johnson  tasked  his  mighty  mind.  Per- 
haps, very  few  are  aware,  that  the  motto,  on  its  earliest 
title  page,  is  the  motto  of  our  rejiublic.  The  first  vol- 
ume, "  printed,"  "  at  St.  John's  Gate,"  "  London,"  in 
1631,  is  in,  what  was,  once,  my  Library.  The  device, 
on  the  title-page,  is  a  hand,  holding  a  bunch  of  flowers, 
tastefully  disposed,  and  bound  together.  The  motto, 
"  E  PLUKIBUS  UNUM."  I  do  uot  kuow,  that  the  one  use 
was  suggested,  by  the  other.  It  might  have  been.  It 
is,  at  any  rate,  a  curious  co-incidence.  In  the  Magazine, 
the  allusion  is,  to  its  being  made  up  of  articles,  "  col- 
lected chiefly  from  the  public  papers."  In  its  national 
adaj)tation  it  expresses,  perfectly,  the  character  of  the 

*  A.  D.  1854. 


E   PLUEIBUS    UNUM.  289 

Republic :  one  State,  made  up  of  many  others ;  in  its 
most  literal  sense,  of  several^  one. 

It  is  to  tliese  simple  words — of  several^  one  ;  E 
PLUEIBUS,  UNUM, — expressing,  so  perfectly,  tlie  nature 
of  our  great  American  Commonwealth :  and  setting 
forth,  in  it,  a  national  system,  such  as  the  world  has 
never  seen,  before ;  and,  which,  beyond  any,  that  has 
ever  been  adopted,  combines  the  elements  of  individ- 
ual happiness  and  general  prosperity,  and  gives  them 
utmost  life,  extent,  activity,  and  energy,  that  I  invite 
your  thoughts,  to-day.  It  is  the  day,  to  think  them. 
They  have  special  interest,  to-day. 

It  was  not  left,  for  the  blessed  year,  which  gave  a 
Constitution,  to  the  thirteen  United  States  of  North 
America,  to  originate  the  idea  of  a  confederated  govern- 
ment. Leagues  have  been  formed,  and  confederacies 
have  sprung  up,  in  every  age.  A  page  of  this  manu- 
script Avould  not  contain  their  several  titles.  You  -will 
find  them,  duly  written,  on  the  lengthening  roll  of  his- 
tory. But,  they  were  all  accidental.  They  were  all 
partial.  They  were  all  imperfect.  They  have  all  been 
unsuccessful ;  and,  so,  transient.  In  no  case,  were  they, 
"  UNUM,"  "  E  PLUEIBUS  ;  "  of  several^  one  :  therefore, 
their  failure.  Either  the  severalty  divided  and  dis- 
solved the  unity :  or  else,  the  unity  absorbed  and  swal- 
lowed up  the  severalty. 

In  our  case,  mark  the  difference  ;  and  see,  how  per- 
fectly, the  framers  of  our  Constitution  met  the  great 
problem  of  a  plural  unit.  Geographical  position,  the 
convenience  of  commerce,  priority  of  occupation,  the 

VOL.  IV. 10 


290  E   PLUEIBUS    UNUM. 

sympatliies  of  neiglibourliood,  had  scattered,  along  tlie 
coast  of  the  Atlantic,  and  in  slight  removes  from  it, 
the  thirteen  English  Colonies  in  America.  When  the 
oppressions  of  the  government,  "  at  home,"  as,  in  their 
worst  estate,  they  still  affectionately  termed  it,  had 
made  endurance,  possible,  no  longer;  and  they  had 
dared  and  done,  what  freemen  will,  for  freedom,  they 
became  the  thirteen  States  :  asserting,  in  the  words  of 
that  immortal  paper,  which  you  have  heard,  once  more, 
to-day,  "  that  the  United  Colonies  are,  and,  of  right, 
ought  to  be,  free  and  independent  States."  This  was 
in  I'T'J'G  ;  the  year  most  memorable  of  all  that  are  in- 
cluded in  the  Christian  era.  In  two  years  more,  "  Ar- 
ticles of  confederation  and  perpetual  union,"  were 
adopted.  But,  with  the  faintest  promise  of  union  and 
without  the  slightest  prospect  of  perpetuity.  The 
hasty  compromise  of  men,  engaged  in  a  contest,  for  ex- 
istence, with  the  most  powerful  nation  of  the  world :  as 
little  fitted  for  the  purposes  of  a  great  nation,  as  one 
of  the  frail  barks,  with  Avhich  Columbus  found  Amer- 
ica, for  the  bombardment  of  Cronstadt.  And,  yet, 
such  was  the  spirit  of  the  people,  and  such  their  deter- 
mination to  be  free,  that  it  bore  them  through  the  war 
of  independence.  The  pressure  of  a  great  necessity  re- 
moved, the  imperfect  arch  was  tottering,  to  fall  in; 
when  giant  hands  came  to  the  rescue,  and  laid,  with  the 
mountain  rocks  of  freedom,  the  Cyclopean  arches  of  the 
Constitution.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  call  it,  as  Alexander 
Hamilton,  before  me,  did,  the  greatest  merely  human 
work,  on  earth.     Other  governments  have  grown  into 


E   PLUEIBUS    UNUM.  291 

greatness ;  have  hardened  into  strength ;  have  been 
compacted  into  solidity  ;  have  learned  adaptedness, 
with  time ;  and  accommodated  themselves,  to  their  oc- 
casions, by  the  slow  marches  of  a  tentative  experience. 
But,  the.  "  Constitution  of  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica "  was  the  work  of  less  than  half  a  year.  And, 
while  the  lapse  of  seven  and  sixty  years  have  called  for 
no  important  change,  the  storms  and  calms,  the  peace 
and  war,  the  prosperity  and  adversity,  of,  so  near,  three 
score  years  and  ten,  have  but  ripened  it  into  a  richer 
excellence,  and  rooted  it  in  a  more  enduring  steadfast- 
ness, and  won  for  it  a  deeper  confidence,  and  established 
it  in  a  more  impregnable  security.  And  as  I  understand 
it — and  I  have  been  a  teacher  of  the  Constitution,  now, 
for  thirty  years — the  secret  of  all  this  is,  what  the  motto 
of  the  Commonwealth  expresses,  e  plueibus,  UNUM  ;  a 
mie,  made  tip  of  many.  If  the  whole  country  were  a  unit, 
it  would  have  overgro^vn,  long  since,  into  dismember- 
ment. If  the  thii'teen,  or  the  thirty-one,  sovereignties, 
whose  stars  are  floating,  now,  among  the  islands  of  the 
Eastern  seas,  and  have  just  opened  the  primeval  prisons 
of  Japan,  to  civilization  and  Christianity,  were  several 
and  separate,  they  would  be  powerless ;  and,  so,  con- 
temptible :  the  bundle  of  rods,  when  the  old  man  had 
unbound  them,  for  his  sons  to  break.  I  spoke,  just  now, 
of  the  Cyclopean  arches  of  the  Constitution.  And  I 
spoke  advisedly.  The  Uuion  is  an  arch,  made  up  of 
arches.  Whether  it  be  thirteen,  or  thirty-one,  can  make 
no  dijfference.  The  principle  is  the  same.  Magnitude 
does  but  strengthen,  and  pressure  does  but  consolidate, 


292  E    PLUEIBUB    UNUM. 

it.  No  matter  for  how  many,  so  tlie  many  be  all  one. 
Tlie  Plurality  gives  weight  to  the  Unity :  the  Unity, 
compactness  to  the  Plurality. 

Let  me  dwell,  for  a  brief  space,  on  these  two  points, 
the  counter  checks  of  the  Constitution ;  the  equilibrium 
of  the  Union.  "  E  plijribus  uistum."  The  one  must  he 
made  iip  of  many.  The  number,  and  the  diversity  of 
the  States  promote  the  strength  and  closeness  of  the 
Union.  Were  there  but  three,  or  five,  it  would  be,  al- 
most, as  if  there  were  but  one.  It  was  propitious  to 
begin  with  as  many  as  thirteen.  That  the  number  is 
much  more  than  doubled,  much  more  than  doubles 
the  resulting  strength.  The  combinations  of  a  lock 
increase  its  safety.  The  combinations  of  the  Union 
are  for  the  furtherance  of  its  security.  It  is  one,  of 
many.  So,  with  its  geographical  divisions.  Climate, 
soil,  original  character,  the  state  of  society,  its  resulting 
customs  and  habits,  make  the  North,  the  equipoise  of 
the  South ;  the  South,  the  equipoise  of  the  North.  The 
commerce  of  the  Atlantic,  and,  now,  of  the  Pacific,  is 
the  outlet  for  the  products  of  the  superabundant  Val- 
ley of  the  Mississippi ;  and  greatly  depends  on  their 
supply,  for  its  prosperity.  While,  the  Middle  States, 
with  their  solidity,  intelligence,  and  central  influence, 
swing,  like  the  governor  in  the  steam  engine,  to  equal- 
lize  the  motions  of  the  rest.  Were  there  no  States, 
specially  commercial,  there  would  be  small  encourage- 
ment for  agriculture.  The  extension  of  manufactures, 
throughout  the  Union,  acts  as  a  vinculum,  to  bind  l3oth 
interests  tos:ether :  as  essential  to  our  commerce,  as  it  is 


E   PLUEIBUS    UNUM.  293 

promotive  of  our  agriculture.  So  wonderfully  lias  God 
set  one,  against  another,  in  our  wonderful  Republic. 
Like  tlie  compensation  pendulum,  tlie  contraction,  in 
one  material,  is  tlie  exact  equivalent  of  tlie  expansion  in 
the  other ;  and  the  result  is  perfect  time.  A  world  is 
compassed,  in  the  range  of  our  vast  territory.  A 
world,  in  its  vastness  and  variety.  A  world,  in  the 
junction,  which  it  foniis,  of  the  two  great  oceans,  by 
which  the  world  is  washed. 

And,  now,  the  other  side  of  the  equation.  E  pluei- 
Bus  UNUM.  Tlie  many  must  unite,  in  one.  What  an 
absurdity,  to  think  of :  as  many  sovereignties,  as  there 
are  States  !  Thirty-one  powers,  to  treat  mth  England, 
or  with  France.  As  many,  to  be  bound  to  keej)  the 
peace ;  or,  else  "  cry,  havoc !  and  let  slip  the  dogs  of 
war."  It  is  a  thing,  not  to  be  contemplated.  JSTor 
would  it  be  materially  better,  if,  for  thirty-one,  we  sub- 
stitute five,  three,  or  two.  The  rivalries  of  commerce, 
the  conflicting  interests  of  territory,  foreign  entangle- 
ments, would  lead  to  a  perpetual  warfare.  As  many 
fleets,  as  many  armies,  as  many  diplomatic  corps,  as  there 
were  several  sovereignties ;  what  a  grievous  and  unneces- 
sary burden !  For  the  indomitable  stars  and  stripes, 
which  never  floated,  but  in  victory,  a  Northern  and  a 
Southern  flag ;  and,  soon,  by  the  inevitable  law  of  sub- 
division, for  two,  three,  five,  or  seven.  No  national 
character,  no  prestige  of  history,  no  ancestral  glory. 
In  the  past,  no  pride ;  for  the  future,  no  confidence : 
how  poor,  and  tame,  and  spiritless,  the  prospect ! 
What  an  exchange,  for  the  silent  j)Ower  of  that  great 


294  E  PLUEIBUS  uisruM. 

empire  of  tlie  West,  whicli,  remote  from  all  tlie  strifes 
and  struggles  of  tlie  Eastern  Continent,  controls  and 
sways  them  all :  and,  wMle  its  being  is  of  the  future, 
rather  than  of  the  past,  already  holds  the  equilibriiun  of 
nations,  and  the  weathergage  of  the  world. 

E  PLUEIBUS  UHUM.  Mark,  for  one  moment,  how 
amazingly  this  problem,  of  a  plural  unit,  is  practically 
worked  out,  in  our  amazing  Constitution.  To  every 
nation,  in  the  world — Japan  and  China,  now,  are  not 
exceptions — there  must  be  the  foreign  and  domestic 
side.  The  side,  which  it  turns  to  its  own  people,  for 
protection,  for  encouragement,  for  consolation ;  and  the 
side,  which  it  turns  to  the  whole  world,  beside,  for 
sovereignty  and  independence :  "  enemies,  in  war ;  in 
peace,  friends."  In  our  inimitable  Union,  this  is  sup- 
plied, by  the  State  governments,  on  the  one  hand,  and, 
on  the  other,  by  tlie  General  government.  As  Jersey- 
men,  as  Georgians,  as  men  of  Massachusetts,  all  that  is 
private,  indi\ddual,  domestic,  social,  in  its  moi'e  imme- 
diate and  endearing  forms,  is  clustered  about  New  Jer- 
sey, Georgia,  and  Massachusetts ;  and  sheltered,  in  their 
shadow.  We  live,  at  home,  among  our  own  people. 
We  know  each  other,  all.  We  grasp  each  ether's  hands. 
We  feel  each  other's  hearts.  But,  when  the  world  is  to 
be  met,  in  commerce,  in  diplomacy,  or  arms  ;  when  the 
nation  is  to  rise  and  rally,  at  the  angel  summons  of  be- 
nevolence, or  at  the  clang  of  the  war-trumpet,  we  are 
one  single  people.  We  are  all  Americans.  There  is 
one  country  for  us  all,  with  one  all  comprehending  Con- 
stitution.   One  glorious  baldric,  blazoned  with  the  stars 


E   PLUEIBUS    UNUM.  295 

and  stripes.  One  monarcli  eagle,  ttat,  from  his  eyrie  in 
the  Alleghanies,  mounts  to  heaven,  ivith  all  "  the  terrors 
of  his  beak,  and  lightning  of  his  eye."  One  broad  and 
blessed  and  perpetual  union ;  the  union  of  our  homes 
and  of  our  hearts  ;  indomitable,  impregnable,  imperish- 
able :  "  Independence,  now,  and  Independence,  forever." 
And  are  there  those,  upon  whose  homes  and  hearths, 
this  glorious  union  sheds  the  blessings  of  its  bow  of 
peace  and  love  and  hope,  that  have  the  heart,  to  stop, 
and  calculate  its  value  ?  Will  they  count  the  stars  ? 
Will  they  register  the  pulses  of  the  ocean,  as  it  lashes 
the  bold  shore  of  freedom  ?  Will  they  sound  the  blue 
depths  of  the  overarching  empyrean  ?  Will  such  an 
one  measure  his  hearth,  with  a  carpenter's  rule  ?  Will 
he  map,  for  us,  the  heart-fields  of  his  home  ?  Is  there 
a  value,  in  arithmetic,  for  his  wife  ?  Or  an  algebraic 
formula,  for  his  children  ?  There  is  no  such  American. 
There  can  be  no  such  man.  If  there  were,  I  would  fear 
to  stand  with,  him  beneath  the  arches  of  the  Constitu- 
tion, lest  a  rock,  from  them,  should  fall,  for  his  destruc- 
tion ;  and  involve  me,  in  his  just  ruin.  Were  he  my 
son,  he  should  take  his  feet  from  off  my  hearth.  And, 
could  he  be  an  alumnus  of  this  College,  his  Alma 
Mater  would  fi'eeze  him,  vdth  one  fierce  frown,  into 
perpetual  stone.  But,  no  ;  it  cannot  be.  The  invalua- 
ble can  no  more  be  calculated,  than  the  infinite  be  meas- 
ured. And,  second,  only,  to  the  blessings,  which  flow, 
immediate  from  the  Cross,  the  benefits,  which,  by  the 
Union  of  these  States,  have  been  secured  to  us :  and, 


296  E   PLUEIBUS    UNUM. 

with  God's  blessing,  on  our  faitliMness,  sliall  be  our 
heritage,  forever. 

In  this  College,  next  to  the  Gospel  of  our  Lord  and 
Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  the  Constitution  of  these  United 
States  is  carefully  expounded  and  enforced.  The  birth- 
day of  the  Union  is  the  birth-day  of  the  College.  The 
annual  recognition  of  its  return  exults  in  its  twin  bless- 
edness. And,  to  the  hearts  of  the  young  men,  that 
shall  go  out  from  here,  the  glorious  banner  of  the  stars 
and  stripes  will  ever  bear  emblazoned,  on  its  broad  and 
sweeping  folds,  the  precious  sign  of  the  all-conquering 
Cross. 

And  it  must  be  so,  dear  friends,  if  we  would  keep 
the  blessings,  we  enjoy.  They  come  to  us,  from  God. 
We  hold  them,  at  His  hands.  We  can  only  keep  them, 
with  His  blessing.  It  is  impossible,  that,  in  an  age, 
like  this,  and  in  a  country,  such  as  ours,  questions  and 
differences  should  not  spring  up.  It  grows  inevitably 
from  our  "  E  PLUEIBUS."  It  is  inseparable  from  that 
which  makes  the  strength  and  safety  of  our  "  unum." 
On  the  one  hand,  be  not  alarmed  by  them.  On  the  other, 
neither  cherish  them,  in  your  own  hearts ;  nor  irritate 
them,  in  the  hearts  of  others.  From  the  midst  of  them 
all,  and,  far  above  them  all,  look  up,  to  the  stars  of 
the  Union.  Remember  the  fields,  where  it  was  assert- 
ed. Remember  the  blood,  with  which  it  was  sealed. 
Shall  any  sepai'ate  between  the  plains  of  Yorktown 
and  the  heights  of  Bunker  Hill  ?  Will  any  cease  to  be 
the  countrymen  of  Putnam  or  of  Marion  ?  Will  any 
one  consent,  that  the  orbit,  in  which  he  revolves,  shall 


E  PLUEIBUS  UNTBr.  297 

not  revolve  about  our  central  Washington  I  Beautiful 
analogy,  Ijetweeu  our  civil  constitution,  and  tlie  system 
of  tlie  Universe  !  Unum,  e  plueirus,  alike  tlie  law  of 
l)otli.  Each,  governed  and  sustained,  alike,  by  forces, 
from  tlie  centre,  and  by  forces,  from  tlie  circumference. 
The  rest,  the  beauty,  the  comfort,  the  glory,  the  perpe- 
tuity of  both,  secured  by  their  mutual  reaction ;  and 
enjoyed,  in  that  perfect  equilibrium,  which,  in  its  noise- 
less and  unrip23led  serenity,  perpetuates  alike  the  con- 
cord of  all  the  States,  and  the  harmony  of  all  the  spheres. 
That  this  may  ever  be  so,  will  depend  upon  God's 
favour,  and,  so,  upon  our  prayers.  And,  in  the  view 
of  this,  and,  for  its  sake,  let  me  commend,  to  you,  who 
love  the  Union,  and  desire  its  perpetuity,  to  consecrate 
it,  ever,  in  your  devotions,  before  God.  From  every  fire- 
side, as  from  every  altar,  let  the  "  Prayer  for  Congress  " 
rise,  from  the  true  heart  of  Christian  patriotism  :  "  that 
all  things  may  be  so  ordered,  and  settled  by  their  en- 
deavours, upon  the  best  and  surest  foundations,  that 
peace  and  ha23piness,  truth  and  justice,  religion  and 
piety,  may  be  established  among  us,  for  all  genera- 
tions." In  the  fervent  Avords,  in  which  David's  pious 
patriotism  found  utterance,  "  O,  pray,  for  the  peace  of 
Jerusalem ;  they  shall  prosper  that  love  thee  :  peace  be 
within  thy  walls,  and  plenteousness  within  thy  palaces." 
"  God  is  our  hope  and  strength,  a  very  present  help  in 
trouble.  Therefore  will  we  not  fear,  though  the  earth 
be  moved,  and  though  the  hills  be  carried  into  the  midst 
of  the  sea.     Though  the  waters  thereof  rage  and  swell ; 


298  E   PLUEIBUS   UNUM. 

and  tliough  tlie  mountains  shake,  at  tlie  tempest  of  the 
same." 

"  Sail  on,  Sail  on,  O,  ship  of  State, 
Sail  on,  O  Union,  strong  and  great ! 

Humanity,  with  all  its  fears, 

With  all  the  hopes  of  future  years, 
Is  hanging,  breathless,  on  thy  fate  ! 
We  know  w"hat  Master  laid  thy  keel, 
What  workman  wrought  thy  ribs  of  steel, 
Who  made  each  mast,  and  sail,  and  rope, 

What  anvils  rang,  what  hammers  beat, 

In  what  a  forge  and  what  a  heat, 
Were  shaped  the  anchors  of  thy  hope  ! 
Fear  not  each  sudden  sound  and  shock ; 
'Tis  of  the  wave,  and  not  the  rock  : 
'Tis  but  the  flapping  of  the  sail. 
And  not  a  rent,  made  by  the  gale  ! 
In  spite  of  rock  and  tempest  roar, 
In  spite  of  false  lights  on  the  shore, 
Sail  on,  nor  fear  to  breast  the  sea  : 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  are  all  with  thee. 

Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears, 

Our  faith,  triumphant,  o'er  our  fears, 
Are  all  with  thee,  are  all  with  thee  !  " — Longfellow. 


IX. 


ORGANIZATIONS  DANGEROUS  TO  FREE 
INSTITUTIONS. 

*  THE  NINTH  FOURTH  OF  JULY  ORATION  AT  BURLINGTON  COLLEGE. 

OuE  national  existence  wants  but  one,  to-day,  of 
fourscore  years.  In  an  age  of  progress,  like  tlie  present, 
this  is  almost  antiquity.  A  year  does,  now,  what  ten 
could  not,  a  thousand  years  ago.  We  just  reverse  the 
antediluvian  standard.  Manhood  must  have  come  late, 
when  life  could  reach  nine  hundred  years  and  sixty-nine. 
And,  when  a  nation  springs,  full-grown,  into  existence, 
age  must  come  soon.  The  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  wants  two,  of  three  score  years  and  ten ;  and, 
through  what  changes  it  has  passed !  Well,  as  it 
works,  in  spite  of  the  infirmity  of  men,  how  differently 
from  their  design,  who  framed  it !  Take,  for  exam23le, 
the  Constitutional  requirement,  that  the  electors  of 
President  and  Vice  President  shall  meet,  on  the  same 
day,  in  all  the  States.  In  the  simplicity  of  their  vii'tue, 
they  provided,  thus,  that  the  election,  in  every  State, 
should  be  entirely  free.     They  aimed  at  making  it  im 

*  A.  D.  1855. 


300  OEGANIZATIONS    DANGEROUS 

possible,  that  any  one  could  be  controlled,  by  any  other, 
or  by  all  the  rest.  They  never  dreamed,  that  two  Con- 
ventions, in  Baltimore,  or  Philadelphia,  would  settle 
every  thing,  beforehand.  That  the  assembling  of  the 
Electoral  Colleges  would  come  to  be  the  merest  shadow 
of  a  form.  That  the  only  office  of  the  Electors,  when 
they  came  together,  would  be  to  name  and  certify  the 
man,  who  had  been  agreed  upon,  by  this  or  that  Con- 
vention :  throwing  a  pre-determined  vote,  without  the 
slightest  exercise  of  judgment,  or  of  freedom.  And, 
that  who  shall  be  the  President,  would  be  just  as  well 
known,  before,  as  after,  their  assembling.  This  is  but 
one  instance  of  the  change,  which  has  come  round,  in 
the  working  of  the  Constitution,  in  less  than  seventy 
years.  Another,  and  a  more  disastrous,  is  the  over- 
w^helming  importance,  which  attaches,  now,  to  office, 
and  the  patronage,  involved  in  it.  It  is  not  too  much 
to  say,  that  administrations  seem  now  to  be  selected, 
not  for  the  government  of  the  country ;  not  for  main- 
taining its  relations  with  foreign  powers ;  not  for  the 
secuiity  of  jorivate  rights,  nor  to  promote  the  happiness 
of  the  people :  but  to  make  the  appointments,  and  to  fill 
the  offices.  That,  to  the  victors,  the  spoils  belong,  is 
now  an  axiom  of  the  country.  How  far  this  is,  from 
the  true  ends  and  uses  of  a  government ;  how  dangerous 
to  the  rights  of  the  people,  how  degrading  to  the  charac- 
ter of  the  nation,  needs  no  philosophy,  to  show :  nor, 
need  I  dwell  on  these  unquestionable  truths.  What  I 
purpose,  to  do,  is  to  point  out,  very  Ijriefly,  what  seems 
to  me  the  greatest  danger  of  the  day ;    and,  then,  to 


TO    FREE   INSTITUTIONS.  301 

indicate  its  remedy.  Organizations  are,  in  my  judgment, 
dangerous  to  free  institutions.  The  individual  exercise 
of  the  right  of  suffrage,  in  the  integrity  of  freedom,  is 
their  only  safety. 

Organizations  are  dangerous  to  free  institutions. 
There  must  be  fi-ee  men,  to  have  institutions  free.  And 
organizations  are  incompatible  with  freedom.  Who- 
ever enters  into  such  a  compact,  binds  himself,  by  the 
very  act,  to  the  surrender  of  his  judgment  and.  of  his 
action,  to  the  will  of  a  majority.  Who  does  not  know, 
by  how  very  few,  these  majorities  are  governed  %  And, 
how  commonly,  one  popular  leader  makes  them,  merely, 
the  exponents  of  his  mil  ?  That  was  no  chance  defini- 
tion, which  declared  "  party,"  "  the  madness  of  the  many, 
for  the  benefit  of  the  few."  And,  the  teaching  of  all 
history  is,  in  nothing,  more  uniform,  than  in  this,  that 
party-spirit  digs  the  grave  of  freedom.  The  prophetic 
eye  of  Washington  beheld  this  danger,  from  afar.  In 
that  noblest  legacy,  which,  uninspired  wisdom  has  yet 
given  to  mankind,  his  "  Farewell  Address,"  "  to  the 
People  of  the  United  States,"  he  utters  these  oracles  of 
wisdom.  "  The  alternate  domination  of  one  faction, 
over  another,  sharpened  by  the  spirit  of  revenge,  natural 
to  party  dissension,  which,  in  different  ages  and  countries, 
has  perpetrated  the  most  horrid  enormities,  is,  itself,  a 
frightful  despotism.  But,  this  leads,  at  length,  to  a  more 
formal  and  permanent  despotism.  The  disorders  and 
miseries,  which  result,  gradually  incline  the  minds  of  men 
to  seek  security  and  repose,  in  the  absolute  power  of  an 
individual ;  and,  sooner  or  later,  the  chief  of  some  pre- 


302  ORGATaZATIONS   DAISTGEROUS 

vailing  faction,  more  able  or  more  fortunate,  than  his 
competitors,  turns  this  disposition  to  the  ]3urj)oses  of  his 
own  elevation,  on  the  ruins  of  public  liberty. 

"  Without  looking  forward,  to  an  extremity  of  this 
kind,  (which,  nevertheless,  ought  not  to  be  entirely  out 
of  sight,)  the  common  and  continued  mischiefs  of  the 
spirit  of  party  are  sufficient,  to  make  it  the  interest  and 
duty  of  a  wise  people,  to  discourage  and  restrain  it.  It 
serves,  always,  to  distract  the  public  councils  and  en- 
feeble the  public  administration.  It  agitates  the  com- 
munity, with  ill-founded  jealousies  and  false  alarms ; 
kindles  the  animosity  of  one  part,  against  another; 
foments,  occasionally,  riot  and  insurrection.  It  opens 
the  door  to  foreign  influence  and  corruption  ;  which  find 
a  facilitated  access  to  the  government  itself,  through 
the  channels  of  party  passions.  Thus,  the  policy  and 
will  of  one  country  are  subjected  to  the  policy  and  will 
of  another. 

"  There  is  an  opinion,  that  parties,  in  free  countries, 
are  useful  checks  upon  the  administration  of  the  govern- 
ment, and  serve  to  keep  alive  the  spirit  of  liberty.  This, 
within  certain  limits,  is  probably  true  :  and,  in  govern- 
ments of  a  monarchical  cast,  patriotism  may  look,  with 
indulgence,  if  not  with  favour,  upon  the  spirit  of  j^arty. 
But,  in  those  of  a  popular  character,  or  governments 
purely  elective,  it  is  a  spirit  not  to  be  encouraged.  From 
their  natural  tendencies,  it  is  certain  there  will  always 
be  enough  of  that  spirit,  for  every  salutary  pui^pose. 
And  there  being  constant  danger  of  excess,  the  effort 
ought  to  be,  by  force  of  public  opinion,  to  mitigate  and 


TO   FREE    INSTITUTIONS.  303 

assuage  it.  A  fire,  not  to  be  quenclied,  it  demands  a 
uniform  vigilance,  to  prevent  its  bursting  into  a  flame  ; 
lest,  instead  of  warning,  it  consume." 

How  truly,  in  sixty  years,  all  tliis  has  been  confirmed. 
Nay,  the  first  four  elections  of  a  President  more  than 
confirmed  it,  all.  Term  after  term,  tlie  coimtry  was  divi- 
ded and  distracted,  by  two  opposing  parties,  under  dif 
ferent  names.  One  four  years'  strife  was  only  termi- 
nated by  the  renewal  of  another.  At  the  present  time, 
no  line  divides  the  nation,  into  two.  There  are  no  two 
party  names,  which  serve  as  rallying  cries,  for  the  elec- 
tion. But,  a  state  of  things,  still  worse,  is  growing  up. 
New  organizations  have  been  formed,  and  still  are  form- 
ing ;  professing  principles  but  seeking  power.  The 
more  influential,  from  their  compactness.  The  more 
dangerous  fi'om  their  speciousness.  The  most  destruc- 
tive, when  they  act  with  secrecy.  As  il^  in  a  free  coun- 
try, there  should  be  any  thing  clandestine.  As  if  liberty 
did  not  walk,  always,  in  the  light.  Against  this  form 
of  evil,  as  against  the  spu^it  of  party,  in  general,  we  have 
the  solemn  warning  of  our  Washington.  "  All  combina- 
tions and  associations,  under  whatever  plausible  charac- 
ter, with  the  real  design  to  direct,  control,  counteract, 
or  awe,  the  regular  deliberation  and  action  of  the  con- 
stituted authorities,  are  of  fatal  tendency.  They  serve 
to  organize  faction ;  to  give  it  an  artificial  and  extraor- 
dinary force  ;  to  put,  in  the  place  of  the  delegated  will 
of  the  nation,  the  will  of  a  party — often,  a  small,  but 
artful  and  enterprising,  minority  of  the  community  : 
and,  according  to  the  triumphs  of  different  parties,  to 


304  OEGAjSTIZATIONS  dangeeofs 

make  tlie  public  administration  the  mirror  of  the  ill-con- 
ceived and  incongruous  projects  of  faction  ;  rather  than 
the  agent  of  consistent  and  wholesome  plans,  digested 
by  common  counsels,  and  modified  by  mutual  interests. 
However,  combinations  or  associations  of  the  above 
description  may,  now  and  then,  answer  poj^ular  ends, 
they  are  likely,  in  the  course  of  time  and  things  to 
become  potent  engines ;  by  which  cunning,  ambitious,  and 
unprincipled  men  ^viYl  be  enabled  to  subvert  the  power 
of  the  people,  and  to  usuip  for  themselves  the  reins  of 
government ;  destroying,  afterwards,  the  very  engines, 
which  had  lifted  them  to  unjust  dominion." 

Were  ever  truer  words  ?  Was  ever  warning  more 
impressive  ?  Ai'e  we  not,  now,  sun^ounded  by  these 
very  evils  ?  Are  we  not,  now,  more  than,  threatened 
with  these  very  dangers  ?  I  speak,  with  no  prejudice, 
of  any  of  these  movements  of  the  day.  I  hold  them  all, 
alike,  as  wrong  in  principle,  and  perilous  in  result.  To 
none  of  them,  .do  I  owe  any  thing. 

"  Nullius  addictiis,  juraro  in  verba  inagistri. 
SAVorn  to  no  master  ;  of  no  sect,  am  I." 

Whatever  name  they  bear,  whatever  object  the}' 
profess,  I  am  against  them  all.  Under  a  stern  and  grind- 
ing despotism,  men  may  find  combination  necessary  ; 
though  they  combine,  with  halters  round  their  necks. 
But,  here,  where  all  can  think,  where  all  can  read,  where 
all  can  write,  Avhere  all  can  print ;  where  all  men  claim 
that  they  are  equal ;  and  the  will  of  the  majority  is  the 
admitted  law ;  that,  which  cannot  be  obtained,  without 
a  special  organization,  must  be  wrong  :  and  the  organ i- 


TO    FEEE   INSTITUTIONS.  305 

zation,  whicli  relies  on  secrecy,  should  be  regarded 
with  suspicion ;  and  distrusted,  lest  it  prove  destructive.* 
From  the  proposition,  that  organizations  are  dan- 
gerous to  free  institutions,  I  pass  to  that,  which  is  its 
counterpart.  The  indimdual  exercise  of  the  7'iglit  of 
suffrage^  in  the  integrity  of  freedom,  is  their  only  safe- 
ty. In  a  free  government,  rights  and  responsibilities 
are  reciprocal.  Equal  rights  involve  equal  responsibili- 
ties. The  man,  who  delegates  his  responsibilities,  has 
conveyed  away  his  rights.  Vote  is  from  Votimi.  Its 
first  sense  is,  a  tvish,  or  tvill.  The  wisher,  for  a  measure, 
or  for  a  man,  becomes  a  voter.  His  vote  is  his  will. 
Who  else  can  wish  for  him  ?  To  whom,  can  he  depute 
his  will  ?  In  what  other  way,  can  the  wish  of  the  na- 
tion be  ascertained,  than  by  the  wishes,  or  votes,  of  a 
majority  ?  To  whom,  but  to  its  duly  constituted  repre- 
sentatives, can  it  intrust  the  expression  of  its  will  ? 
The  attempt  to  forestall  it,  through  conventions,  or  to 
control  it  by  associations,  is  virtually  to  surrender  the 
government,  to  a  few  ambitious  demagogues,  and,  how- 
ever little  suspected,  is  the  longest  first  step,  that  a  na- 
tion can  take,  toward  the  surrender  of  its  liberties.  The 
besetting  sin  of  man  is  selfishness  :  and  it  does  not  take 
a  hundred  years,  to  pervert  a  government,  which  was 
framed  by  the  noblest  hearts,  and  in  the  purest  patriot- 
ism, into  a  machine,  to  work  the  ambitious  and  self  seek- 


*  It  may  be  supposed  that  my  argument  is  addressed  to  the  association,  com- 
monly spoken  of,  as  "  Know  Nothings."  But,  it  is  not  so.  /  know  nothing  of 
them,  or  of  any  other  organization,  present  or  historical.  I  but  reproduce  the 
words  of  Washington  ;  to  enforce  them,  in  the  guidance  of  the  young  Americans, 
committed  to  my  care. 

VOL.  IV. — 20 


306  ORGANIZATIONS   DANGEEOUS 

ing  into  place  and  power.  It  is  the  result  of  caucuses, 
and  conventions,  and  societies,  and  unconstitutional 
organizations,  of  every  kind,  to  frame  and  carry  out 
the  compact  between  office-seekers :  the  most  aspiring, 
to  secure  their  elevation,  by  their  pledges  of  distribution, 
to  the  hungry  crew,  who  are  their  tools  and  slaves  ;  till 
their  turn  comes,  to  be  the  masters.  This  is  inseparable 
from  the  machinery  of  politics.  And  it  works  too  well, 
for  the  mercenary  and  the  ambitious,  to  be  easily  got  rid 
of.  The  one  remedy  is  in  every  man,  securing  his  own 
rights,  by  the  discharge  of  his  own  responsibilities.  The 
exercise  of  the  individual  right  of  suffrage,  in  the 
integrity  of  freedom.  I  shall  be  told  that  this  is  impossi- 
ble.^' That  candidates  could  never  be  selected,  in  this 
way.  That  there  could  be  no  elections.  My  simple 
reply  is,  try  it.  If  candidates  are  to  represent  a  caucus, 
or  a  convention,  or  a  society,  or  a  party,  it  is  all  well, 
as  it  is.  But,  if  they  are  to  represent  the  people,  the 
people  must  select  them ;  the  people  must  elect  them. 
As  it  now  is,  they  are  selected,  by  the  office-seekers ; 
and  elected,  by  those,  whom  they  assemble,  at  the  polls. 
At  the  present  time,  George  "Washington  could  not  be 
made  the  President  of  the  United  States.  We  know 
that  Henry  Clay,  and  John  C.  Calhoun,  and  Daniel 
Webster  could    not.      To  "  the    powers  that  be,"  the 

*  My  single  and  sufiScient  reply  to  tliis  objection  is ;  then,  a  republic  is  an  im- 
possibility. I  do  not  believe  it.  Our  Government,  at  present,  is  very  nearly  an 
oligarchy  of  office-holders  and  office-hunters.  "  You  would  not  have  spoken  so," 
said  a  most  intelligent  and  excellent  friend,  "  if  you  had  desired  an  office."  "  Oh, 
yes,  I  would,"  was  my  reply.  "  I  would  not  have  an  office,  on  any  other  terms." 
"Then,"  he  said,  "you  would  never  get  a  vote!"  Could  there  be  clearer 
demonstration  of  my  argument ! 


TO    FREE    INSTITUTIONS.  307 

Christian  citizen  will  pay  allegiance  and  obedience. 
But,  tlie  theory  of  our  Constitution  is,  and  the  only 
theory  of  a  true  republic,  that  those  who  exercise  the 
government  shall  be  chosen  by  the  people ;  and,  that  the 
people,  guided  by  intelligence  and  controlled  by  virtue, 
shall  choose,  in  every  case,  the  best.  "  Is  he  honest,  is 
he  capable,  is  he  faithful  to  the  Constitution  ? "  was 
Jefferson's  enumeration  of  the  qualities,  for  office.  The 
question,  now,  is,  can  he  be  elected  ?  And,  if  he  is,  will 
he  give  me  an  office  ?  It  was  a  current  maxim  of  the 
ancient  patriotism,  "  Salus  populi,  suprema  lex."  Tlie 
first  principle  of  the  government  is  the  loelfare  of  tlie 
people.  We  could  suit  the  present  state  of  things  much 
better,  by  a  text  from  Tacitus,  "  Romse,  omnia  venalia." 
At  Rome.,  all  things  for  sale.  Which,  being  translated 
into  American,  is,  to  the  victors,  belong  the  spoils. 

Neighbours  and  Mends,  my  speech  to  you,  to-day, 
has  been  of  the  very  plainest.  But,  there  is  no  food,  in 
flattery.  Nor  any  thing,  for  health  and  happiness,  like 
the  bare  truth.  No  one  will  deny,  that  things  are  as  I 
state  them.  No  one  can  doubt,  that  the  tendency  is 
downward.  In  vain,  we  trust  to  our  broad  territory,  to 
its  vast  productiveness,  to  the  energy  of  the  people,  to 
the  advancements  in  science  and  in  art,  to  an  age  of 
progress.  Virtue  is  as  essential,  to  a  nation,  as  to  a  man. 
And,  without  virtue,  freedom  cannot  be.  "  Where 
the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  is,  there  is  liberty."  "  If  the  Son 
shall  make  you  free,  you  shall  be  free  indeed."  I  have 
pointed  out,  what  I  believe  to  be,  with  God's  blessing, 
om*  rescue  and  om-  remedy.     The  exercise  of  individual 


308  OKGiVNIZATION'S    DAISTGEEOUS 

suffrage,  in  tlie  integrity  of  freedom.  Every  man  should 
vote :  and  every  man  should  vote  for  the  best  man. 
We  should  have  no  exciting  quarrels,  then,  as  to  this  or 
that  specific  combination,  for  the  benefit  of  parties,  or 
interests,  or  individuals.  To  live  under  the  Constitu- 
tion, and  to  vote  for  the  Constitution,  would  describe 
the  citizen.  To  administer  the  government,  acording  to 
the  Constitution,  would  be  the  standard  of  official  ac- 
tion, through  all  the  grades  of  office.  The  government 
of  the  United  States  would  thus  become,  in  practice, 
what  our  patriot  fathers  made  it ;  the  most  perfect,  of 
all  human  institutions.  And,  to  be  an  American  citizen 
and,  like  Paul,  "  born  free,"  would  then  describe  the 
highest  style  of  man. 

This  is  a  training  school  for  Cheistian  Feeemek 
In  mind  and  heart,  we  are  devoted  to  that  work.  In 
this  connection,  we  can  have  no  other  thought,  no  other 
wish.  Our  text-books,  as  Christians,  are  the  Bible  and 
the  Prayer  Book.  As  Freemen,  our  text-book  is  the 
Constitution.  We  need  no  other :  and  there  are  no 
better.  But,  in  neither  case,  will  books,  alone,  suffice  ; 
nor  aU  the  learning,  which  all  books  can  give.  To  be 
a  Freeman,  to  be  a  Christian,  is  a  practical  thing.  It 
must  be  done ;  not,  merely,  known.  "  If  ye  know  these 
things,  happy  are  ye,  if  ye  do  them."  Dear  children  of 
my  love,  my  duty,  and  my  prayers,  be  to  the  Church, 
be  to  the  country,  true  and  faithful  sons.  Strive,  here, 
to  form  the  character  and  habits,  which  will  adorn  your 
lives,  and  beautify  your  deaths,  and  go  with  you  into 
immortality. 


TO  FREE  iisrsTiTUTiojvrs.  309 

'"  He  is  a  freeman,  whom  the  truth  makes  free, 

And  all  are  slaves,  beside."  * 

In  the  blessed  words  of  the  divine  and  holy  Saviour, 
"  If  ye  continue  in  my  word,  then  are  ye  my  disciples 
indeed :  and  ye  shall  know  the  truth ;  and  the  truth 
shall  make  you  free." 

"  Winds  blow,  and  waters  roll, 
Strength,  to  the  brave,  and  Power  and  Deity ; 
Yet,  in  themselves,  are  nothing.     One  decree 
Spake  laws  to  them  ;  and  said,  that,  by  the  soul, 
Only,  the  nations  shall  be  great,  and  free."  f 

*  Cowper.  f  Wordsworth. 


X. 


CIVIL    GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED   TRUST 
FROM  GOD. 


*THE  ORATION  BEFORE  THE  NEW  JERSEY  STATE  SOCIETY  OF 
THE  CINCINNATI. 

It  was  the  height  of  plowing.f  Upon  a  farm  of 
scarce  four  acres,J  across  the  Tiber,  just  opposite  to 
where  the  navy-yard  was  afterwards,  a  man  was  at  his 
work.    In  his  shirt-sleeves, §  his  long,  crisp  hair,||  uj^on 

*  July  4th,  A.  D.  1845.  Dedicated  to  "  the  Hon.  Garret  D.  Wall,  the  friend  of  my 
Father,  and  my  own  friend ;  a  kind  parishioner,  a  wise  and  faithful  counsellor ; 
with  true  affection  and  sincere  respect. 

jf  "  Medium  erat  tempus  forte  sementis,  quum  patricium  virum  innixum  aratro 
suo,  lictor  in  ipso  opere  deprehendit." — L.  Ann^i  Flori,  i.  11. 

^  "  Spes  unica  imperii  populi  Romani  L.  Quintius  trans  Tiberim,  contra  etim 
ipsum  locum,  ubi  nunc  navalia  sunt,  quatuor  jugerum  colcbat  ap'um. — T.  Livii, 
iii.  26.  "  He  was  a  frugal  man,  and  did  not  care  to  be  rich  ;  and  his  land  was  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Tiber,  a  plot  of  four  jugera,  where  he  dwelt  with  his  wife 
Racilia,  and  busied  himself  in  the  tilling  of  his  ground. — Arnold,  History  of 
Rome,  i.  204. 

§  "  The  deputies  went  over  the  river,  and  came  to  his  house,  and  found  him 
in  his  field,  at  work,  without  bis  toga  or  cloak." — Arnold,  i.  204.  "  The  tunica," 
Becker  says,  "  was  worn  under  the  toga,  and  was  a  sort  of  shirt." — Gallus,  342. 
Before  receiving  the  message  of  the  Senate,  he  sent  to  his  cottage  for  his  toga, 
or  outer  garment.  "  Togam  propere  tugurio  proferre  uxorem  Raciliam  jubet." 
— Livii,  iii.  26. 

II  Hence  his  name  of  Cincinnatus ;  as  if  it  were  curly-headed  Lucius  Quinctius. 
"  This  Lucius  Quinctius  let  his  hair  grow,  and  tended  it  carefully;  and  was  so 
famous  for  his  curled  and  crisped  locks,  that  men  called  him  Cincinnatus,  or  the 
crisp-haired.'''' — Arnold,  i.  204. 


CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACEED   TRUST   FROM   GOD.    311 

Ms  shoulders,  covered  with  sweat  and  dust,*  lie  was 
bending  at  the  plow  ;f  when  deputies  approached  him, 
before  sun-rise,  from  the  Roman  Senate, J  to  apprize 
him,  that  the  Consul,  with  his  army,  was  surrounded, 
in  the  country  of  the  JEqui ;  and  that  he,  chosen  Dicta- 
tor, must  march  at  once,  with  all  the  force  that  could 
be  levied,  to  their  rescue.  Before  the  sun  went  down 
that  day,  his  line  of  march  was  taken  up.  And  the 
slant  rays  of  the  next  sunset  gilded  the  banners  with 
which  he  entered  Rome,  in  triumph.§  Prevailing 
plowman,  as  the  Roman  annalist  well  calls  him.  The 
campaign  ended,  he  went  bach  to  his  oxen.  And  with 
such  rapidity,  by  all  the  gods,  that  one  might  say,  he 
hastened  home,  to  get  his  j)lowing  done  !  ||  Such  was 
the  man — of  such  simplicity,  of  such  alacrity,  of  such 
integrity,  modest  in  peace,  as  he  was  masterly  in  war — 
whom  those,  whose  sweat  and  blood  achieved  the  inde- 
pendence of  this  nation,  held  so  high  in  honour,  as  to 
resolve  to  follow  his  example,  and  adopt  his  name.  ^ 

*  "  Qua  simul,"  (se.  toga)  "  absterso  pulvere  ac  sudore,  velatus  processit." — 
Livii,  iii.  26.       ♦ 

f  "Hie  dictator  ab  aratro." — Flori,  i.  11.     See  also  above.     Li vy,  however, 
hesitates  between  digging  and  plowing.     "  Sen  fossam  fodiens  palee  innisus,  sen 
quum  araret ;  operi  certe,  id  quod  constat,  agresti  intentus." — iii.  26. 
"  Here  Cincinnatus  passed,  his  plough  the  while 
Left  in  the  furrow." — Rogers,  Italy,  142.  ■• 

\  "  So,  in  the  morning  early,  the  Senate  sent  deputies  to  Lucius." — Dr.  Arnold, 
i.  204. 

§  "  All  was  done  so  quickly,  that  he  went  out  on  one  evening,  and  came  home 
the  next  day  at  evening,  victorious  and  triumphant." — i.  208. 

II  "  Sic  expeditione  finita,  rediit  ad  boves  rursus,  triumphalis  agricola.  Fidem 
numiuum  !  Qua  velocitate  !  "  "  Prorsus  ut  festinasse  Dictator  ad  relictura  opus 
videretur." — Flori,  i.  11. 

T[  The  following  minute  is  the  best  and  most  authentic  statement  of  the  origin 

and  principles  of  the  Societv  of  the  Cincinnati : 

"  Tuesday,  May  13, 1783. 

"  The  representatives  of  the  American  Army  being  assembled,  agreeably  to 


312     CIVIL  GOVEEOTHENT  A  SACEED  TEUST  FEOM  GOD. 

Such  was  Lucius  Quintius  Cincinnatus.  If  there  be 
nobler  name,  for  peace  or  war,  than  his,  on  any  human 
record,  pm'er  in  patriotism,  steadier  in  disasters,  cooler 
in  trials,  calmer  in  conquest,  is  it  not  the  Cincinnatus  of 
our  commonwealth  ?     Is  it  not  Geoege  Washington  ? 

Me.  Peesldent,  and  Gentlemen  of  the  CiNcrNNATi : 
— I  took  no  second  thought  as  to  my  duty  in  regard  to 
your  appointment  for  this  day.     I  felt  no  right  to  do 

adjournment,  the  plan  for  establishing  a  society,  whereof  the  officers  of  the 
American  Army  are  to  be  members,  is  accepted,  and  Is  as  follows,  viz. : 

"  It  having  pleased  the  Supreme  Governor  of  the  Universe,  in  the  disposition 
of  human  affairs,  to  cause  the  separation  of  the  colonies  of  North  America  from 
the  domination  of  Great  Britain,  and,  after  a  bloody  conflict  of  eight  years,  to  es- 
tablish them  Free,  Independent,  and  Sovereign  States,  connected,  by  alliances 
founded  on  reciprocal  advantage,  with  some  of  the  great  princes  and  powers  of 
the  earth. 

"  To  perpetuate,  therefore,  as  well  the  remembrance  of  this  vast  event,  as  the 
mutual  friendships  which  have  been  formed  under  the  pressure  of  common  dan- 
ger, and,  in  many  instances,  cemented  by  the  blood  of  the  parties,  the  officers 
of  the  American  Army  do,  hereby,  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  associate,  consti- 
tute and  combine  themselves  into  one  Society  of  Friends,  to  endure  as  long  as 
they  shall  endure,  or  any  of  their  eldest  male  posterity,  and,  in  failure  thereof, 
the  collateral  branches  who  may  be  judged  worthy  of  becoming  its  supporters 
and  members. 

"  The  officers  of  the  American  Army  having  generally  been  taken  from  the 
citizens  of  America,  possess  high  veneration  for  the  character  of  that  illustrious 
Roman,  Lucius  Quintius  Cincinnatus,  and  being  resolved  to  follow  his  example,  by 
returning  to  their  citizenship,  they  think  they  may  with  propriety  denominate 
themselves  the  Society  of  the  Cincinnati. 

"  The  following  principles  shall  be  immutable,  and  form  the  basis  of  the  So- 
ciety of  the  Cincinnati. 

"  An  incessant  attention  to  preserve  inviolate  those  exalted  rights  and  liberties 
of  human  nature  for  which  they  have  fought  and  bled,  and  without  which  the 
high  rank  of  a  rational  being  is  a  curse  instead  of  a  blessing. 

"  An  unalterable  determination  to  promote  and  cherish,  between  the  respective 
States,  that  union  and  national  honour,  so  essentially  necessary  to  their  happiness, 
and  the  future  dignity  of  the  American  empire. 

"  To  render  permanent  the  cordial  affection  subsisting  among  the  officers ;  this 
spirit  will  dictate  brotherly  kindness  in  all  things,  and  particularly  extend  to  the 
most  substantial  acts  of  beneficence,  according  to  the  ability  of  the  Society  to- 
wards those  officers  and  their  families,  who  unfortunately  may  be  under  the  ne- 
cessity of  receiving  it." 


CIVIL  GOVERlSraiENT  A  SACRED  TEUST  FROM  GOD.     313 

SO.  Tliere  is  a  growing  tendency  to  separate  between 
things  sacred  and  tilings  secular,  in  point  of  obligation ; 
to  run  out,  on  the  field  of  liuman  life,  a  line  of  liiglier, 
and  a  line  of  lower  duties ;  to  adopt  a  sort  of  "  sliding 
scale  "  in  morals.  It  is  according  to  this  fashion,  that 
religion  should  become  a  thing  of  Sundays,  and  of  ser- 
mons, and  of  sacraments,  alone  ;  and  not  of  every  day's 
concern,  and  of  our  universal  life.  Man  seems  a  creature 
of  two  atmospheres  :  the  higher,  for  his  soul  to  float  in, 
towards  God  ;  the  lower,  where  his  body  is  to  labour, 
among  men.  Religious  men  are  only  for  the  other  world : 
the  men  of  this  world,  by  an  inference  most  natural,  with- 
out the  slightest  need  to  be  religious !  Civil  government 
confined  to  this  life,  and  for  men ;  a  thing  apart  from 
G  od !  God's  ministers,  disfranchized,  but  for  heaven ; 
scarcely  so  much  as  citizens  of  earth !  I  stand  against  all 
this,  as  false  in  princij)le,  and  dangerous  in  practice.  We 
are  brethren  all,  the  children  of  one  Father.  One  com- 
mon life,  the  breathing  and  the  blessing  of  His  love. 
One  common  home,  the  earth  which  He  hath  made, 
and  garnished  for  our  use.  One  common  rule.  His  pure 
and  perfect  law  of  righteousness  and  peace.  One  com- 
mon end,  His  glory  in  the  mutual  good  of  all  our  kind. 
One  common,  blessed  hope,  to  be  with  Him  forever,  as 
we  are  like  Him  now.  It  follows,  by  a  necessary  con- 
sequence, that  we  are  intercorporated  with  each  other, 
in  inseparable  union.  What  the  Apostle  teaches  of 
the  Church,  holds  of  om*  human  kind,  "  we  are  mem- 
bers one  of  another."  *     The  heathen  knew  it,  when  he 

*  Romans  xii.  4. 


314     CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACEED  TRUST  FROM  GOD. 

said,  *  ''  I  am  a  man :  and  liave  a  heart  for  every  liuman 
thing."  The  Christian  knew  it,  when  he  said  ;  "  none 
of  us  liveth  to  himself,  and  no  man  dieth  to  himself."  f 
And  it  follows,  by  a  consequence  as  necessary,  that  our 
mutual  obligation,  our  religion,  so  to  speak  —  our 
boundenness,  J  that  is,  to  God,  and  to  each  other, — must 
run  alike  through  every  level,  and  through  every  line 
of  life,  imbue  them  and  pervade  them  all,  fill  them  with 
light  and  love  and  loveliness ;  in  one  word,  with  the 
present  God :  as  Paul,  that  greatest  human  master  of 
morality  that  ever  taught,  has  plainly  said,  and  with  as 
much  of  truth  as  plainness ;  "  Whether,  therefore,  ye 
eat  or  drink,  or  whatsoever  ye  do,  do  all  to  the  glory 
of  God,"  §  "  that  God  in  all  things  may  be  glorified, 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord."  ||  Upon  these  simple 
dictates  of  my  duty,  I  accepted  your  appointment  as 
Orator,  to-day.  And,  standing  on  this  broad,  this  high, 
this  solid  ground — broad  as  the  field  of  human  life, 
high  as  the  destiny  of  man,  and  solid  as  the  throne  of 
God — I  feel  that  I  may  claim,  what  I  am  sure  that  you 
will  grant,  your  candid  hearing,  for  that  which  I  have 
chosen,  from  the  thoughts  and  themes,  "with  which  my 
spirit  labours,  as  worthiest  of  you,  and  of  myself,  and 
fittest  for  the  presence,  and  the  day :  Civil  Govern- 

IVIENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  EROM  GoD. 

*  "  Homo  sum  ;  humani  nihil  alienum  a  me  puto." — Terence. 

f  Romans  xiv.  7.  X^  Corinthians  x.  31.  §  1  St.  Peter  iv.  11. 

II  Religion,  from  tlie  Latin  religio.  The  most  probable  etymology  is  a  rcUgando; 
the  word  religio  seeming  emphatically  to  express  the  reciprocal  bond  or  obligation 
of  man  to  man  ;  and  also  the  obligation  or  duty  of  man  to  God.  See  Richard- 
son's English  Dictionary.  How  can  there  be  a  better  definition  of  it  than  the 
Catechism  furnishes  ?  "  What  dost  thou  chiefly  learn  from  these  commandments? 
I  learn  two  things ;  my  duty  towards  God,  and  my  duty  towards  my  neighbour." 


CIVIL  GOVEETiTMENT  A  SACKED  TEUST  FROM  GOD.     315 

Mr.  President^  Gentlemen  of  the  Cincinnati^  Fel- 
low Citizens — It  is  an  easy  tHng  to  speak  in  glowing 
terms,  and  witli  a  sounding  voice,  of  our  republic,  of 
tlie  national  independence,  of  civil  fi'eedom,  and  the 
like.  It  is  an  easy  and  a  natural  thing  to  boast  us  of 
the  spirit  which  demanded  for  the  thirteen  colonies,  a 
place  among  the  nations  of  the  earth ;  and  of  the  blood 
which  bought  it,  and  cemented  them  as  one.  It  is  an 
easy  and  a  natural  thing,  and  most  entirely  to  be  held 
to,  and  be  had  in  honour,  to  kindle  with  unwonted  hre, 
as  the  day  dawns,  which  celebrates  the  going  forth  of 
those  brave,  burning  words,  to  which  we  now  have  lis- 
tened,* whose  echoes  fill  the  world,  and  are  the  bat- 
tle-cry of  liberty  in  every  land ;  to  feel  that  swelling 
of  the  heart,  which  only  freemen  know,  when  first 
the  morning  drum  rolls  out  reveille,  in  the  ears  of 
twenty  millions  ;  to  rally,  as  one  man,  around  the  stars 
and  stripes,  when  their  unfolded  beauty  blazes  in  the 
beams  of  that  returning  sun,  to  which  they  owe  the 
matchless  magic  of  their  power.  But  these  are  symbols 
all,  mere  tokens  or  mere  words,  signs  of  an  inward  life ; 
which,  if  it  be  not,  if  it  bear  not  fi*uit,  if  it  bestow  not 
life  and  health  and  blessings  on  mankind,  godlike  in 
glory  and  in  goodness,  has  but  a  name  to  live ;  is  but  an 
outer  seeming,  to  beguile  and  to  deceive ;  a  Sodom  apple, 
varnish  upon  dust ;  f  a  hectic  flush,  painting  the  cheek 

*  The  Declaration  of  Independence  had  been  read  by  the  President  of  the 
Cincinnati,  the  Hon.  J.  Warren  Scott. 

f  Since  the  above  was  written,  I  have  met  with  what  follows,  in  Eliot  War- 
burton's  graphic  sketch,  '■'■The  Crescent  arid  the  Cross:" — "On  resuming  our 
desert  path,  we  picked  up  some  apples  of  Sodom,  that  lay  strewn  upon  the  desert, 


316     CIVIL  GOVEENMENT  A  SACKED  TRUST  FROM  GOD. 

on  wliicli  it  preys.  Do  we  remember  what  tliese  to- 
kens stand  for  ?  Do  we  think  what  a  nation  is  ?  Do 
we  consider  the  origin,  the  nature,  the  uses  of  ci^dl  gov- 
ernment ?  A  nation  is  a  fearful  thins;.  If  there  were 
any  thing  on  earth  to  fill  God's  eye,  it  would  be  that. 
A  mighty  moral  mass,  immortal  in  mortality !  So 
much  of  weakness  to  be  helped.  So  much  of  igno- 
rance to  be  taught.  So  much  of  misery  to  be  relieved. 
Such  high  intelligence,  so  dwarfed.  Such  vast  capaci- 
ties, so  d"windled.  Organizations  so  exquisite,  de- 
ranged. Such  folly.  Such  madness.  Such  crime. 
This,  in  beings  made  like  God !  This,  in  beings  for 
whom  God  ordains  enjoyment !  This,  in  beings  for 
whom  God,  through  Jesus  Christ,  hath  opened  heaven ! 
Can  there  be  any  human  measure  of  national  responsi- 
bility ?  Can  there  be  any  thing,  short  of  creation,  so 
pregnant  in  results  as  the  national  organization  ?  What 
hand,  unequal  to  the  one,  could  have  been  trusted  with 
the  other  ?  Who  that  refers  the  first  to  God,  will,  in 
the  other,  stop  with  man  ?  Where  is  the  wisdom, 
short  of  God's,  that  shall  devise  ?  Where  are  the  sanc- 
tions, short  of  God's,  that  shall  authenticate  ?  Where 
is  the  power,  short  of  God's,  that  shall  sustain  ?  The 
state  of  nature,  which  men  talk  of,  never  has  existed. 
The  social  compact,  which  men  talk  of,  was  never  en- 
tered into.     When  God  made  man,  He  made  him  for 


without  apparent  coDnection  with  any  stem ;  they  were  of  a  bright  gold-green, 
about  the  size  of  an  orange,  but  perfectly  round  and  smooth :  they  gave  the  idea 
of  being  swelled  out  with  the  richest  juice,  that  when  bitten,  must  gush  forth  to 
meet  the  thirsty  lip :  you  crush  this  plausible  rind,  however,  and  a  cloud  of  fetid 
dust  bursts  forth,  which  leaves  only  a  few  cinders  as  a  residue." 


CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  FROM  GOD.     317 

society ;  and  wliere  tliere  is  society,  there  must  of  course 
be  government.  God  is  the  universal  Governor.  The 
governments  that  are  on  earth,  are  delegations  all  from 
Him.  There  is  no  power  but  of  God.  Whether  they 
spring  direct  from  His  ordaining  hand,  or  whether  they 
grow  up  by  permission  of  His  providence — ^whatever 
be  their  form  or  name,  a  monarchy  or  a  republic ;  a  j)a- 
triarch,  a  king,  a  president — the  powers  that  be,  are  or- 
dained of  God.  They  are  His  ministers.  They  govern 
in  His  -place.  They  bear  the  sword  for  Him.  They 
are  His  ordinance  for  human  good.  Therefore,  must 
every  soul,  as  he  owes  sovereignty  to  God,  "  be  subject 
unto  the  higher  powers ;  "  ^'  rendering  to  all  theii*  dues. 
"  The  governments  which  now  are,"  says  Bishop  Hors- 
ley,  "  have  not  arisen  from  a  previous  state  of  no-gov- 
ernment, falsely  called  the  state  of  nature ;  but  from 
that  original  government  under  which  the  first  genera- 
tions of  men  were  brought  into  existence,  variously 
changed  and  modified,  in  a  long  course  of  ages,  under 
the  wise  direction  of  God's  overruling  providence,  to 
suit  the  various  climates  of  the  world,  and  the  infinitely 
varied  manners  and  conditions  of  its  inhabitants.  And 
the  principle  of  subjection  is  not  that  principle  of  com- 
mon honesty  which  binds  a  raan  to  his  own  engage- 
ments, much  less  that  principle  of  political  honesty 
which  binds  the  child  to  the  ancestor's  engagements ; 
but  a  conscientious  submission  to  the  will  of  God.  The 
principles  which  I  advance,"  he  still  continues,  "  ascribe 
no  greater  sanctity  to  monarchy  than  to  any  other  form 

*  Romans  xiii.  1. 


318     CIVIL  GOVEENMENT  A  SACKED  TEUST  FEOM  GOD. 

of  establislied  government ;  nor  do  tliey  at  all  involve 
tlie  exploded  notion  tliat  all  or  any  of  tlie  sovereigns 
of  eartL.  hold  tlieir  sovereignty  by  virtue  of  sucli  im- 
mediate or  implied  nomination  on  the  part  of  God,  of 
themselves  personally,  or  of  the  stocks  from  which  they 
are  descended,  as  might  confer  an  endless,  indefeasible 
right  on  their  posterity.  In  contending  that  govern- 
ment was  coeval  with  mankind,  it  will  readily  be  ad- 
mitted that  all  the  particular  forms  of  government  which 
now  exist  are  the  work  of  human  policy,  under  the  con- 
trol of  God's  overruling  general  providence ;  that  the 
Israelites  were  the  only  people  upon  earth  whose  form 
of  government  was  of  express  divine  institution,  and 
their  kings  the  only  monarchs  who  ever  reigned  by  an 
indefeasible  divine  title :  but  it  is  contended  that  all 
government  is  in  such  sort  of  divine  institution,  that, 
be  the  form  of  any  particular  government  what  it  may, 
the  submission  of  the  individual  is  a  principal  branch 
of  that  religious  duty  which  each  man  owes  to  God."  * 
Nor  does  the  doctrine  thus  laid  down  leave  out  of  sight 
the  possibility  of  necessary  changes,  or  fail  to  make 
provision  for  them.  "  In  governments,  of  what-ever  de- 
nomination," he  goes  on  to  say,  "  if  the  form  of  govern- 
ment undergo  a  change,  or  the  established  rule  of  suc- 
cession be  set  aside  by  any  violent  or  necessary  revolu- 
tion, the  act  of  the  nation  itself  is  necessary  to  erect  a 
new  sovereignty,  or  to  transfer  the  old  right  to  the  new 
possessor.  The  condition  of  a  people  in  these  emer- 
gencies bears  no  resemblance  or  analogy  to  that  anarchy 

*  Sermon  44,  Rivlngton's  Edition,  1824. 


CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  FROM  GOD.     319 

whicli  lias  been  called  tlie  state  of  nature.  The  people 
become  not  in  these  situations  of  government,  what 
they  would  be  in  that  state,  a  mere  multitude.  They 
are  a  society,  not  dissolved,  but  in  danger  of  dissolu- 
tion :  and,  by  the  great  law  of  self  preservation,  inher- 
ent in  the  body  politic,  no  less  than  in  the  solitary  ani- 
mal, a  society  so  situated  has  a  right  to  use  the  best 
means  for  its  own  preservation  and  perpetuity.  A  peo- 
ple, therefore,  in  these  circumstances  has  a  right,  which 
a  mere  multitude  unassociated  would  never  have,  of  ap- 
pointing, by  the  consent  of  the  majority,  a  new  head 
for  themselves  and  their  posterity :  and  it  will  readily 
be  admitted,  that,  of  all  sovereigns,  none  reign  by  so 
fair  and  just  a  title  as  those  who  can  derive  theii'  claim 
from  such  public  act  of  the  nation  which  they  govern." 
"  In  all  these  cases,  the  act  of  the  people  is  only  the 
means  which  Providence  employs  to  advance  the  new 
sovereign  to  his  station.  The  obligation  to  obedience 
proceeds  secondarily  only  from  the  act  of  man,  but  pri- 
marily from  the  will  of  God,  who  has  appointed  civil 
life  for  man's  condition ;  and  requires  the  citizen's  sub- 
mission to  the  sovereign  w^hom  His  providence  shall  by 
any  means  set  over  him."  *  "  The  reason  why  we  should 
be  subject  to  magistrates,"  says  Calvin,  "  is  because  they 
are  appointed  by  the  ordinance  of  God.  Since  it  has 
pleased  God  so  to  administer  the  government  of  the 
world,  he  who  resists  their  power,  strives  against  the 
divine  ordinance,  and  so  fio-hts  a2:ainst  God.  Because, 
to  disregard  His  providence,  who  is  the  author  of  civil 

*  Ibidem 


320     CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  FROM  GOD. 

government,  is  to  go  to  war  with  Him."  ''*  "  That  all 
lawful  dominion,  considered  in  the  abstract,"  Arch- 
bishop Bramhall  says,  "  is  from  God,  no  man  can  make 
any  doubt."  But  the  right  and  application  of  this  power 
and  interest,  in  the  concrete,  to  this  or  that  particular 
man,  is  many  times  from  the  grant  and  consent  of  the 
people.  So  God  is  the  principal  agent ;  man,  the  in- 
strumental. God  is  the  root,  the  fountain  of  power; 
man,  the  stream,  the  bough  by  which  it  is  derived.  The 
essence  of  power  is  always  from  God ;  the  existence, 
sometimes  from  God,  sometimes  from  man."f 

Fellow-citizens,  however  theorists  may  speculate, 
the  only  safe  reliance  of  a  nation  is  the  reference  of 
civil  government  to  God,  as  a  divine  and  sacred  trust, 
for  human  good.  Nations  are  men.  And  men  are 
equals.  And,  of  equals,  none  can  govern.  No  man,  as 
man,  can  claim  obedience  from  his  fellows.  The  very- 
primal  element  of  all  authority,  the  first  exemplar  of  a 
government  on  earth,  the  father  in  his  family,  is  only 
such,  as  he  reflects  the  image  of  the  great  Original  of 
governments,  the  universal  Parent,  and  is  as  God  to 
them.  Whether  the  governors  be  thought  of,  or  the 
governed,  this  is  the  true  idea.  In  this,  alone,  is  per- 
fect reason.  In  this,  alone,  is  perfect  right.  In  this, 
alone,  is  peace  and  liberty  and  happiness.  Where  are 
the  stores  of  water  for  the  world  ?  Not  in  the  deepest 
wells.  Not  in  the  fallest  fountains.  Not  in  the  leap- 
ing streams.     Not  in  the  gushing  sj^rings.     These  serve 

*  On  Romans  xiii.  1.       f  Serpent  Salve.     Archbishop  Bramhall's  works,  iu 
Library  of  Anglo-Catholic  Theology,  iii.  317. 


CIVIL  GOVERNJEENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  FROM  GOD.     321 

« 

tlieii'  temporary  turn.  Tliese  are  convenient  reservoirs, 
for  common  use.  But  for  the  world's  great  wants — 
to  float  its  navies,  or  to  tui'n  its  mills,  to  keep  its  val- 
leys like  tlie  emerald  in  beauty,  and  to  feed  tlie  cattle 
on  its  thousand  hills — the  storehouse  of  the  rain  must 
be  j)oured  out  from  heaven.  The  drought  will  bow 
the  world  to  God.  And  so  with  man,  in  his  religious, 
moral,  civil,  interests.  The  great  machinery,  in  which 
we  live,  and  move,  and  have  our  being,  is  so  ingeniously 
constructed,  and  so  graciously  sustained,  that  the  Crea- 
tor's hand  is  never  seen.  The  wheels,  the  springs,  the 
weights,  seem  all  instinct  with  life.  A  child  accounts 
of  them  as  living.  And  so  proud  men,  boasting  of 
msdom,  with  the  very  breath  that  proves  them  fools, 
would  leave  out  God  from  His  creation,  or  make  a  god 
of  some  created  thing.  But  water  never  flows  above  its 
source.  Its  utmost  struggle  is  to  reach  the  level  of  its 
native  summit.  And,  when  the  broken  cisterns,  w^hich 
the  art  of  man  has  sought  to  substitute  for  living  foun- 
tains, in  God's  heaven,  have  done  theii*  best,  they  mis- 
erably fail,  and  leave  their  mad  artificers,  and  the  poor 
fools  that  follow  them,  to  gasp  and  perish  in  theu'  thirst. 
How  can  it  fail  to  be  so  ?  "Who  ever  set  himself  with 
safety  against  a  law  of  nature  ?  Who  would  stand 
still  upon  the  shores  of  Fundy,  when  that  sweeping 
tide,  of  sixty  feet,  or  more,  comes  rolling  in  ?  "Who 
would  leap  in,  when  the  fierce  furnace  has  attained  its 
utmost  glow,  to  bathe  him  in  its  sea  of  flame  ?  Can 
such  things  be,  and  men  exist  ?  Will  the  tide  make  an 
eddy,  and  sweep  round  the  maniac  while  the  waters 

VOL.  IV. 21 


322     CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACEED  TRUST  FROM  GOD. 

stand  up,  as  a  wall,  upon  his  right  hand  and  his  left,  and 
leave  him  dry  ?  Or  will  "  the  midst  of  the  furnace  " 
be,  "  as  it  had  been  a  moist  whistling  wind,"  *  so  that 

"  the  rushing  fire-flood  seem 
Like  summer  breeze,  by  woodland  stream  ?"j- 

It  was  so,  once,  indeed,  that  God  might  j^rove  His 
laws  by  the  one  rare  exception,  when  He  went  with 
His  people  through  the  sea,  and  walked  with  His  holy 
children  in  the  flame.  But  only  madmen  look  for  it ; 
and  they,  to  23erish  in  tlieir  madness.  And  shall  the 
laws  of  nature  stand,  and  He  who  set  them,  chano-e  ? 
Shall  it  be  less  safe  to  contend  with  fire  and  flood,  than 
with  the  God  who  gave  them  their  fierce  mastery  of 
human  life  ?  Shall  it  be  safer  for  a  nation  to  desert  Him 
than  a  man  ?  If  none  of  us  can  take  a  step  but  through 
His  power,  or  draw  a  breath  but  of  His  goodness,  can 
there  be  more  of  safety  for  the  multitude  of  helpless 
ones,  or  greater  strength  in  the  accumulation  of  the 
weak  ?  Surely,  an  infant  child,  forsaken  of  his  mother, 
is  an  undefended  and  a  desolate  thing.  But,  when  a 
nation  casts  off  God,  and  is  cast  off  by  Him,  there  is  a 
desperation  in  its  helplessness  that  can  present  no  paral- 
lel. "  The  law  is  broken,  nature  is  disobeyed,  and  the 
rebellious  are  outlawed ;  cast  forth  and  exiled  from  this 
world  of  reason,  and  order,  and  peace,  and  virtue,  and 
fruitful  penitence,  into  the  antagonist  world  of  mad- 
ness, discord,  vice,  confusion,  and  unavailing  sorrow."  J 

*  Song  of  the  Three  Children,  27. 

f  Keble,  Christian  Year,  nineteenth  Sunday  after  Trinity. 
:]:  Mr.  Burke,  Reflections   on  the  Revolution  in  France,  iii.  120.      Little  & 
Brown,  1839. 


CIVIL  GOVEENMENT  A  SACKED  TEITST  FEOM  GOD.     323 

To  admit  tliat  civil  government  is  a  divine  and  sa- 
cred trust,  as  it  is  essential  and  unclianging  truth,  so  is 
it,  for  tlie  governors,  the  true  idea.  It  is  tine  as  it 
confers  on  them  true  dignity,  invests  them  with  real 
power,  and  entitles  them  to  actual  confidence.  No  one 
has  summed  this  up  so  briefly  and  so  faithfully,  as  that 
great  moral  master  of  mankind,  the  apostle  Paul :  "he 
is  the  minister  of  God  to  thee  for  good." '"'  Men  are 
alike,  in  their  mortality,  their  misery,  their  sinfulness. 
And  yet,  there  must  be  governors  and  governed.  The 
child  that  played  with  us  at  marbles,  the  boy  that 
bathed  with  us  at  noon,  the  man  whose  infirmities, 
whose  necessities,  whose  errors,  whose  vices,  were 
known  to  us  as  no  others  but  our  own  could  be,  suc- 
ceeds, by  his  hereditary  title,  or  is  called,  by  popular 
suffrage,  to  administer  the  government,  and  govern  us. 
Where  is  his  right  to  that  superiority  ?  In  what,  but 
in  that  arbitrary  thing,  is  he  our  equal  ?  On  what 
grounds  shall  we  defer  ?  To  what  claim  shall  we  sub- 
mit ?  By  what  obligation  shall  we  obey  ?  Is  it  his 
title  to  succeed  his  father  ?  But  what  better  was  his 
father  ?  Is  it  the  sufli'age  of  the  State  ?  But  who 
made  the  State  our  master  ?  He  might  be  chosen  by  a 
bare  majority  of  one.  How  is  that  one  lord  over  us  ? 
There  is  no  end  to  these  unsettling  questions.  They 
are  the  elements  of  insubordination  and  discontent. 
They  involve  perpetual  anarchy.  They  entail  an  indis- 
criminate confusion.  They  break  up  the  fountains  of 
the  great  deep  of  self  will  in  man  ;  and  they  must  drown 

*  Komans  xiii.  4. 


324     CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  FROM  GOD. 

the  universe  in  tears  and  blood.     But,  no  !     There  is  a 
God  in  heaven.     He  is  the  universal  Lord.     To  Him  all 
things,  in  heaven,  on  earth,  and  under  the  earth,  do  bow 
and  obey.     The  powers  that  be  are  ordained  of  Him. 
He  putteth  down  one,  and  setteth  up  another.     We  see 
His  face  in  them.    Their  brightness  is  the  shadow  of 
His  light.      In  reverencing  them,  we  reverence  Him. 
In  obeying  them,  we  are  obedient  to  Him.     "  They  are 
God's  ministers,  attending  continually  upon  .this  very 
thing."  "'^     We  render,  therefore,  unto  God  the  things 
which  are  God's,  when  we  render  unto  Caesar  the  things 
which  are  Caesar's.     We  are  subject,  not  "  for  wrath,"  so 
much,  because  we  fear  their  power,  as  "  for  conscience' 
sake,"  because  we  own  His  sovereignty ;    submitting 
ourselves   "  to  every  ordinance  of  man  for  the  Lord's 
sake."  f      "  Considering,"    says   the    profoundly   philo- 
sophic Butler,  "  that  civdl  government  is  that  part  of 
God's  government  over  the  world  which  He  exercises 
by  the  instrumentality  of  men,  wherein  that  which  is 
oppression,  injustice,  cnielty,  as  coming  fi'om  them,  is 
under  His  direction  necessaiy  discipline  and  just  pun- 
ishment ;  considering  that  all  power  is  of  God,  all  au- 
thority is  properly  of  divine  appointment ;  men's  very 
living  under  magistracy  might  naturally  have  led  them 
to  the  contemplation  of  authority  in  its  source  and  ori- 
gin, the  one  supreme  authority  of  Almighty  God  ;    by 
which  He  doeth  according  to  His  will  in  the  army  of 
heaven,  and  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth ;  which 
He  now  exerts  visibly  and  invisibly  by  different  instru- 

*  Romans  xiii.  6.  f  1  St.  Peter  ii.  13. 


CIVIL  GOVEEKMEi^T  A  SACEED  TEUST  FEOM  GOD.     325 

mcnts,  in  different  forms  of  administration,  different 
methods  of  discipline  and  punishment ;  and  which  He 
will  continue  to  exeii;  hereafter  not  only  over  mankind, 
when  this  mortal  life  shall  be  ended,  but  throughout 
His  universal  kingdom ;  till,  by  having  rendered  to  all 
according  to  their  works.  He  shall  have  completely  exe- 
cuted that  just  scheme  of  government  which  He  has  al- 
ready begun  to  execute  in  this  world,  by  their  hands, 
whom  He  has  appointed  for  the  present  punishment  of 
evil  doers,  and  for  the  praise  of  them  that  do  wtU."  '"^ 

And  this  is  the  true  idea  for  governors,  not  merely 
as  it  conveys,  authenticates  and  executes  their  power, 
but  as  it  holds  them  to  the  most  severe  account.  They 
are  God's  ministers,  not  masters  of  mankind.  They  are 
God's  ministers  for  good,  not  for  the  increase  or  the  ex- 
ercise of  power.  They  are  God's  ministers  for  others' 
good,  and  not  their  own.  The  lust  for  lordship  is  a 
natural  appetite  of  man.  It  seems  as  if  He  sought  for- 
getfulness  of  his  own  meanness  and  misery,  in  making 
others  meaner  and  more  miserable.  There  cannot  be 
conceived  a  things  more  fearful  than  the  authorized  con- 
viction,  in  a  mortal  man,  that  he  possesses  arbitrary 
power.  "  He  have  arbitrary  power,"  says  Mr.  Burke, 
in  one  of  the  finest  bursts  of  his  indignant  rage,  upon 
the  trial  of  Warren  Hastings,  "  lie  have  arbitrary 
power  !  My  lords,  the  East  India  Company  have  no  ar- 
bitrary power  to  give  him  ;  the  king  has  no  arbitrary 
power  to  give  him ;  your  lordships  have  not ;  nor  the 
Commons ;  nor  the  whole  Legislature.     We  have  no  ar- 

*  Sermon  before  the  House  of  Lords,  Edinburgh  edition,  1823,  ii.  359. 


326     CIVIL  GOVEEmiENT  A  SACEED  TEUST  FEOM  GOD. 

bitraiy  j)ower  to  give,  because  arbitrary  power  is  a 
tiling  whicli  neither  any  man  can  hold,  nor  any  man  can 
give.  No  man  can  lawfully  govern  himself  according 
to  his  own  will ;  much  less,  can  one  person  be  governed 
by  the  will  of  another.  We  are  all  born  in  subjection, 
all  born  equally,  high  and  low,  governors  and  governed, 
in  subjection  to  one  great,  immutable,  pre-existent  law, 
prior  to  all  our  devices,  and  prior  to  all  our  contri- 
vances, paramount  to  all  our  ideas,  and  all  our  sensa- 
tions ;  antecedent  to  our  very  existence,  by  which  we 
are  knit  and  connected  in  the  eternal  frame  of  the  uni- 
verse, out  of  which,  we  cannot  stir.  This  great  law 
does  not  arise  from  our  conventions  or  compacts ;  on 
the  contrary,  it  gives  to  our  conventions  and  compacts 
all  the  force  and  sanction  they  can  have."  "  All  do- 
minion over  man  is  the  effect  of  the  divine  disposition. 
It  is  bound  by  the  eternal  laws  of  Him  that  gave  it, 
with  which  no  human  authority  can  dispense ;  neither 
he  that  exercises  it,  nor  even  those  who  are  subject  to 
it.  And  if  they  were  mad  enough  to  make  an  express 
contract,  that  should  release  their  maojistrate  from  his 
duty,  and  should  declare  their  lives,  liberties,  and  prop- 
erties dependent,  not  upon  rules  and  laws,  but  his  mere 
capricious  will,  that  covenant  will  be  void.  The  ac- 
ceptor of  it  has  not  his  authority  increased,  but  he  has 
his  crime  doubled.  Therefore,  can  it  be  imagined,  that 
he  will  suffer  this  great  gift  of  government,  the  greatest, 
the  best  that  was  ever  given  by  God  to  mankind,  to  be 
the  plaything  and  the  sport  of  the  feeble  will  of  a  man, 
who,  by  a  blasphemous,  absurd  and  petulant  usurpation. 


CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACEED  TEUST  FEOM  GOD.     327 

would  place  his  own  feeble,  contemptible,  ridiculous 
will,  in  tlie  place  of  the  divine  wisdom  and  justice  ?  "  * 
But,  no  ;  it  cannot  be.  All  civil  government  is  in  tlie 
nature  of  a  trust.  The  Heavenly  Father  makes  pro- 
vision for  His  minor  children,  till  He  take  them  to 
Himself.  He  leaves  them  here,  at  school.  He  leaves 
them  here,  to  grow  and  fit  for  heaven.  But  He  for- 
sakes them,  He  forgets  them,  not.  He  leaves  them  in 
His  world.  He  superintends  them  by  His  providence. 
He  gives  them  all  things  richly  to  enjoy.  He  ap- 
points trustees  and  guardians,  for  their  instruction  and 
protection.  He  establishes  their  governors,  to  be  His 
ministers  to  them  for  good.  It  is  a  high,  a  holy,  a  tre- 
mendous trust.  It  sets  them  on  the  thi'one,  with  God. 
They  are  His  viceroys  upon  earth.  If  they  are  faith- 
ful, heaven  has  nothing  that  He  will  not  lavish  on 
them,  through  eternity.  If  they  are  faithless,  there  is 
no  pit  in  hell  too  deep  and  dark  for  their  eternal  exile 
from  all  peace,  all  rest,  all  joy.  Forever  mindful,  then 
they  should  be  of  their  sacred  trust.  Forever  mindful 
that  they  hold  it  for  God's  children  uj^on  earth.  For 
ever  mindful,  that  they  hold  it  under  most  severe  ao 
countability  to  Him.  They  are  to  govern  by  the  law, 
They  are  to  seek  no  good  but  theirs  who  are  intrusted 
to  their  care ;  no  other  glory  than  His,  who  put  them 
thus  in  trust.  "  LaAV  and  arbitrary  power,"  says  Mr. 
Burke,  "  are  in  eternal  enmity.  Name  me  a  magistrate, 
and  I  will  name  property ;  name  me  power,  and  I  will 
name  protection.     It  is  a  contradiction  in  terms ;  it  is 

*  Works,  vii.  il6,  Little  &  Brown,  1839. 


328     CIVIL  GOVEENMENT  A  SACEED  TEUST  EEOM  GOD. 

wickedness  in  politics ;  it  is  l3lasp]iemy  in  religion,  to 
say  tliat  any  man  can  liave  arbitrary  power.  In  every 
patent  of  office,  duty  is  included.  For  wliat  else  does 
a  magistrate  exist  ?  To  suppose,  for  power,  is  an  absurd- 
ity in  idea.  Judges  are  guarded  and  governed  by  tlie 
eternal  laws  of  justice,  to  whicli  we  all  are  subject. 
We  may  bite  our  cliains,  if  we  will ;  but  we  sliall  be 
made  to  know  ourselves,  and  be  taught  tliat  man  is 
born  to  be  governed  by  law :  and  be  tkat  will  substitute 
will,  in  tlie  j)lace  of  it,  is  an  enemy  to  God."  * 

To  admit  tkat  civil  government  is  a  divine  and  sa- 
cred trust,  is  as  mucb  tbe  true  idea  for  tlie  governed, 
as  it  can  be  for  tbe  governors.  Indeed,  the  one  are  only 
for  tlie  other.  And,  therefore,  what  is  true  for  these, 
must  be,  ex  abundantly  in  an  infinite  proportion,  true 
for  those.  True,  as  it  settles  and  defines  their  rights ; 
true,  as  it  settles  and  defines  their  duties.  The  Maker 
is  the  champion  of  mankind.  His  "Word  is  their  eternal 
Bill  of  Rights.  The  merest  child,  that  is  instructed  in 
it,  can  run  his  finger  all  along  its  lines  of  living  light : 
and  say  to  the  most  overbearing  tyrant  that  has  tram- 
pled on  his  race,  "  hitherto  shalt  thou  come,  and  no  far- 
ther ; "  for  here  the  right  is  fixed,  and  God  defends  the 
right.  But  people  may  do  A\Tong,  as  well  as  rulers. 
And,  when  they  do,  the  terms  of  the  great  trust  are 
broken ;  and  they  forfeit  its  protection,  and  incur  its 
fearfnl  penalties.  Resisting  the  po^ver,  they  resist  the 
ordinance  of  God.  Using  their  liberty  for  a  cloak  of 
maliciousness,  they  find  it,  at  the  last,  the  poisoned 

*Pp.  118,9. 


CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACEED  TRUST  FROM  GOD.     329 

vest,  to  agonize  tlie  body,  and  to  kill  tlie  soul.  Tliey 
run  from  riot  to  riot.  They  fall  into  the  pit  which  they 
have  digged.  They  perish  by  the  sword  which  they 
have  taken.  For,  "  liberty,"  says  one  of  the  profound- 
est  thinkers,  and  best  tempered  moralists,  that  ever 
lived,  "  liberty  is  in  many  other  dangers  from  itself,  be- 
sides those  which  arise  fi'om  formed  designs  of  destroy- 
ing it,  under  hypocritical  pretences,  or  romantic  schemes 
of  restoring  it  on  a  more  perfect  plan.  It  is  particu- 
larly liable  to  become  excessive,  and  to  degenerate  in- 
sensibly into  licentiousness ;  in  the  same  manner  as  lib- 
erality, for  example,  is  apt  to  degenerate  into  ex- 
travagance. And  as  men  cloak  their  extravagance  to 
themselves,  under  the  notion  of  liberality,  and  to  the 
world,  under  the  name  of  it,  so  licentiousness  passes 
under  the  name  and  notion  of  liberty.  Now,  it  is  to 
be  observed,  that  there  is,  in  some  respect  or  other,  a 
very  peculiar  contrariety  between  those  vices  which  con- 
sist in  excess,  and  the  resemblance  whose  name  they 
affect  to  bear ;  the  excess  of  any  thing  being  always  to 
its  hurt,  and  tending  to  its  destruction.  In  this  manner, 
licentiousness  is,  in  its  very  nature,  a  present  infringe- 
ment upon  liberty,  and  dangerous  to  it,  for  the  future. 
Yet  it  is  treated  by  many  persons  with  peculiar  indul- 
gence, under  this  very  notion,  as  being  an  excess  of 
liberty.  And  an  excess  of  liberty  it  is,  to  the  licen- 
tious themselves.  But  what  is  it  to  those  who  suffer 
by  them,  and  who  do  not  think  that  amends  is  at  all 
made  them,  by  having  it  left  in  their  power  to  retaliate 
safely  ?     When  by  popular  insurrections  or  defamatory 


330     CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  FROM  GOD. 

libels,  or  in  any  like  way,  the  needy  and  the  turbulent 
securely  injure  quiet  peoj)le  in  their  fortune  or  good 
name,  so  far,  quiet  people  are  no  more  free  than  if  a 
single  tyrant  used  them  thus.  A  particular  man  may 
be  licentious  without  being  less  free  ;  but  a  community 
cannot:  since  the  licentiousness  of  one  will  unavoid- 
ably break  in  upon  the  liberty  of  another.  Civil  lib- 
erty, the  liberty  of  a  communit}",  is  a  severe  and  re- 
strained thing ;  implies  in  the  notion  of  it,  authority, 
settled  subordinations,''*  subjection  and  obedience ;  and 
is  altogether  as  much  hurt  by  too  little  of  this  kind,  as 
by  too  much  of  it.  And  the  love  of  liberty,  when  it  is 
indeed  the  love  of  liberty,  which  carries  us  to  withstand 
tyranny,  will  as  much  carry  us  to  reverence  authority, 
and  support  it ;  for  this  most  obvious  reason,  that  one 
is  as  necessary  to  the  very  being  of  liberty,  as  the  other 
is  destractive  of  it.  And,  therefore,  the  love  of  liberty, 
which  does  not  produce  this  effect,  the  love  of  liberty, 
which  is  not  a  real  principle  of  dutiful  behaviour  towards 
authority,  is  as  hypocritical  as  the  religion  which  is  not 
productive  of  a  good  life.  Licentiousness  is,  in  truth, 
such  an  excess  of  liberty  as  is  of  the  same  nature  with 
tyi'anny.  For  what  is  the  difference  between  them,  but 
that  one  is  lawless  power,  exercised  under  pretence  of 
authority,  or  by  persons  invested  with  it ;  the  other, 
lawless  power  exercised  under  pretence  of  liberty,  or 
without  any  pretence  at  all.  A  peoj)le,  then,  must  al- 
ways be  less  free  in  proportion  as  they  are  more  licen- 

*  Milton  has  said, 

"  Orders  and  degrees 
Jar  not  with  liberty,  but  well  consist." 


CIVIL  GOVEENMENT  A  SACKED  TRUST  FROIVr  GOD.     331 

tious :  licentiousness  being  not  only  different  from  lib- 
erty, but  contraiy  to  it ;  a  direct  breacli  upon  it." 
"  Government,  as  distinguished  from  mere  power,  free 
government,  necessarily  inq^lies  reverence,  in  the  sub- 
jects of  it,  for  authority  or  power  regulated  by  laws ; 
and  a  habit  of  submission  to  the  subordinations  in  civil 
life,  throughout  its  several  ranks  :  nor  is  a  peoj)le  capa- 
ble of  liberty,  without  something  of  this  kind.  But,  it 
must  be  observed,  this  reverence  and  submission  will 
at  best  be  very  precarious,  if  it  be  not  founded  upon  a 
sense  of  authority,  being  God's  ordinance ;  and  the  sub- 
ordinations of  life,  a  providential  appointment  of 
things."  "'''■ 

I  am  prepared  for  the  suggestion,  that,  in  this  re- 
public, the  line  between  the  governors  and  governed  is 
scarcely  a  fixed  line ;  and  that  so,  the  relations  between 
the  two  are  scarcely  to  be  regarded  as  established  rela- 
tions. But  I  find  in  this  suggestion  the  fullest  confir- 
mation of  the  doctrine  I  have  sought,  fi-om  God's  word, 
and  the  wisdom  of  the  wisest  men,  to  teach,  and  to  en- 
force. Just  in  proportion  as  the  lines  which  separate 
two  classes  shall  be  faint  and  indistinct,  the  difficulty 
of  their  relations  must  increase.  Each  may  in  turn 
sustain  the  functions  of  the  other.  Each  may  in  time 
do  both.  And,  therefore,  each  must  be  pre]3ared  for 
both.  It  is  for  us  to  show,  that  permanent  distinctions 
and  hereditary  ranks  are  not  the  necessary  bulwarks 
of  good  order  in  a  nation.  It  is  for  us  to  show,  that 
there  may  be  utmost  liberty,  that  shall  not  run  into  li- 

*  Bishop  Butler,  Sermon  in  the  House  of  Lords,  ii.  326-329. 


332     CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  FROJM  GOD. 

centiousness.  It  is  for  i-is  to  show,  that  there  may  be  a 
people,  fit  to  be  as  sovereigns,  all.  For  these  things, 
eyes  are  turned  upon  us  from  all  the  races  of  mankind. 
For  these  things,  we  are  held  accountable  to  those  who 
bou2:ht  this  freedom  for  us  with  their  blood.  For 
these  things,  we  are  held  accountable  to  all  the  genera- 
tions that  are  yet  to  follow  us,  that  we  transmit  an  un- 
impaired inheritance.  For  these  things,  we  are  held 
accountable  to  all  the  nations  of  the  world,  that  no  ex- 
ample of  our  failure  turn  to  their  discouragement.  For 
these  things,  we  are  held  accountable  to  God,  who,  hav- 
ing set  us  up  among  the  nations  of  the  world,  at  such 
a  turning  point  of  time,  has  made  us  answerable — in 
extent  of  territory,  in  abundance  of  resources,  in  a  i^op- 
ulation  of  unrivalled  skill  and  of  indomitable  enter- 
prise, in  institutions  that  give  utmost  freedom  of  devel- 
opement  to  both — for  issues,  in  the  progress  of  our  race, 
such  as  no  jDoet  ever  dreamed  of.  To  us,  I  say,  so  con- 
stituted, so  endowed,  and  so  accountable,  the  great  re- 
ligious truth,  that  civil  government  is  a  divine  and  sa- 
cred trust,  is  the  one  master  truth,  most  potent,  and 
most  precious.  We  can  rely  on  nothing  else,  as  univer- 
sal, permanent,  and  sure.  Expediency  varies  with  the 
man.  Self-interest  is  treacherous  and  delusive.  The 
good  report  of  men  is  insufficient  against  strong  temp- 
tations. The  memory  of  them  that  shall  come  after,  is 
influential  only  with  the  few.  The  consciousness  that 
we  are  held  to  answer  for  a  sacred  trust ;  the  generous 
feeling  that  it  is  a  trust  for  all  mankind,  that  are,  and 
are  to  be ;  the  deep,  im\Tought   conviction,  that  we 


CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  FROM  GOD,      333 

must  give  account  of  it  to  God :  in  tliese,  tlie  strong 
hold  must  be  found.     These  will  not  fail,  where  any 
bond  can  stand.     To  these,  the  moral  nature  that  we 
bear,  was  made  to  vibrate  and  respond.     These  are  the 
cords,  as  of  a  man,  by  wdiich  the  Maker  keeps  His 
hold  upon  our  race.     The  nation,  or  the  man,  that  is 
alive  to  this  appeal,  is  capable  of  every  lofty  thing.    The 
nation,  or  the  man,  that  does  not  feel  its  power,  and  an- 
swer to  its  call,  is  dead  to  duty  and  to  glory.     It  w411 
not  do  for  any  man  to  say,  I  entered  into  no  such  con- 
tract, and  will  be  held  by  no  such  obligation.     "  We 
have  obligations  to  mankind  at  large,"  says  Mr.  Burke, 
"  which  are  not  in  consequence  of  any  special  voluntary 
pact.     They  arise  from  the  relation  of  man  to  man,  and 
the  relation  of  man  to  God ;  which  relations  are  not 
matters  of  choice.     On  the  contrary,  the  force  of  all  the 
pacts  which  we  enter  into  with  any  particular  person 
or  number  of  persons  amongst  mankind,  depends  upon 
these  prior  obligations.     In  some  cases  the  subordinate 
relations  are  voluntary ;  in  others  they  are  necessary: 
but  the  duties  are  all  compulsive.     When  we  marry, 
the  choice  is  voluntary,  but  the  duties  are  not  matter 
of  choice.     They  are  dictated  by  the  nature  of  the  situa- 
tion.    Dark  and  inscrutable  are  the  ways  by  which  we 
come  into  the  world.     The  instincts  which  give  rise  to 
this  mysterious  process  of  our  nature,  are  not  of  our 
making.     But,  out  of  physical  causes,  unkno^\Tii  to  us, 
perhaps  unknowable,  arise  moral  duties,  which,  as  we 
are  able  perfectly  to  comprehend,  we  are  bound  indis- 
pensably to  perform.     Parents  may  not  be  consenting 


334      CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  FROM  GOD. 

to  their  moral  relation  ;  but,  consenting  or  not,  they  are 
bound  to  a  long  train  of  burthensome  duties  towards 
those  with  whom  they  have  never  made  a  convention 
of  any  sort.  Children  are  not  consenting  to  their  rela- 
tion, but  their  relation,  without  their  actual  consent, 
binds  them  to  its  duties ;  or  rather,  it  implies  their  con- 
sent, because  the  presumed  consent  of  every  rational 
creature  is  in  unison  with  the  predisposed  order  of 
things.  Men  come  in  that  manner  into  a  community 
with  the  social  state  of  their  parents,  endowed  with  all 
the  benefits,  loaded  with  all  the  duties  of  their  situa- 
tion. If  the  social  ties  and  ligaments  spun  out  of  those 
physical  relations  which  are  the  elements  of  the  com- 
monwealth, in  most  cases  begin,  and  always  continue, 
independently  of  our  Avill ;  so,  without  any  stipulation 
on  our  part,  are  we  bound  by  that  relation  called  our 
country,  which  comprehends  (as  it  has  been  well  said) 
'  all  the  charities  of  all.'  *  Nor  are  we  left  -without  pow- 
erful instincts  to  make  this  duty  as  dear  and  grateful 
to  us,  as  it  is  awful  and  coercive.  Our  country  is  not 
a  thing  of  mere  physical  locality.  It  consists  in  a  great 
measure  of  the  ancient  order  into  which  we  were  born. 
We  may  have  the  same  geographical  situation,  but 
another  country ;  as  we  may  have  the  same  country  in 
another  soil.  The  place  that  determines  our  duty  to 
our  country  is  a  civil  social  relation."f — Let  it  not  be 
said,  this  is  a  disproportionate  responsibility !  In  God's 
creation,  there  is  no  disproportion.     Ne^vton  and  Kep- 

*  "  Omnos  omnium  caritates  una  patria  complectitur." — Cicero. 

f  Appeal  from  the  new  to  the  old  Whigs,  iii.  41*7,  18.     Little  &  Brown,  1839. 


CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED   TRUST  FROM  GOD.      335 

ler  have  traced  the  laws  vs^hich  regulate  the  perfect  har- 
mony of  the  material  universe.  It  is  as  perfect  in  the 
moral.  Action  and  reaction  are  not  more  perfectly  re- 
ciprocal and  equal,  than  privilege  and  accountability. 
There  is  no  disproportion  in  the  case.  What  could 
there  be,  that  should  not  be  expected  of  the  people  of 
this  nation  ?  On  whom  has  God  so  showered  the  bless- 
ings of  His  providence  ?  When  did  a  period,  less  than 
three  score  years  and  ten,  ever  accomplish  such  a  pro- 
gress ?  What  is  the  rate  that  has  been,  to  the  rate  that 
has  begun  to  be  ?  "  Who  can  count  the  dust  of  Jacob, 
and  the  number  of  the  fourth  part  of  Israel  ? "  *  How 
small  a  price,  for  blessings  so  transcendent,  to  hold 
them,  as  a  sacred  trust,  a  heritage  for  ever,  for  them 
that  shall  come  after  !  To  set  them  forth  in  their  true 
light  and  native  excellence,  to  charm  the  nations  with 
their  beauty,  and  win  them  to  participate  our  joy  ! 

It  would  be  idle  to  deny,  that  our  great  trust,  from 
God,  for  human  kind,  is  set  about  with  dangers ;  or, 
that  utmost  faithfulness  and  caution  are  needed,  on  our 
part,  for  its  effectual  preservation  and  extension.  A 
word  or  two  of  earnest  caution  may  not  unfitly  close 
this  plain  discourse.  Tlie  safety  of  this  government 
imperatively  demands  the  education  of  the  people.  I  do 
not  mean  by  that,  the  mere  ability  to  read  and  wiite,  and 
keep  accounts.  I  do  not  mean  the  science,  merely,  that 
can  map  the  heavens,  or  navigate  the  air,  or  "  put  a  girdle 
round  the  earth,"  in  less  than  the  ten  thousandth  part  of 
Ariel's  undertaking.     I  do  not  speak  of  intellectual  im- 

*  Numbers  xxiii.  10. 


338    CIVIL  governjMEKt  a  sacred  trust  from  god. 

provement,  merely,  or  of  mental  acquisition;  tliougli  these 
demand,  and  will  deserve,  utmost  encouragement.  I 
sj)eak  of  that  whicli  educates,  di'aws  out,  developes,  tends 
to  perfect,  tlie  Divine  Original,  wliicli  still  remains  to 
fallen  human  natui'e,  and  maintains  it  human.  I  speak 
of  that  which  lifts  the  heart  fi'om  grovelling  on  the 
earth,  in  sensual  indulgence,  to  the  communion  of  all  high 
and  holy  things.  I  speak  of  that  which  makes  the  most 
obedient  child,  the  most  devoted  parent,  the  most  faith- 
ful friend,  the  kindest  neighbour,  the  most  patriotic 
citizen,  the  j)urest  and  the  gentlest  woman,  the  best  and 
bravest  man.  Ours  is  the  land  for  men.  Men,  to  con- 
tend with  difficulties.  Men,  to  keep  pace  with  progress, 
and  to  urge  it.  Men,  to  anticipate  improvements.  Men, 
to  be  fearless  in  adversity.  Men,  to  be  constant  in 
prosperity.  Men,  like  the  Roman  Cincinnatus,  to  leave 
all  to  serve  the  country  ;  *  or,  like  the  patriot  band  of 
'seventy-six,  to  pledge,  for  country  and  for  freedom, 
their  "  lives,"  their  "  fortunes  "  and  their  "  sacred  hon- 
our." This  is  the  style  of  men  to  cany  out  the  enter- 
prize,  which,  nine  and  sixty  years  ago,  this  day,  such 
men,  with  fearless  hand,  and  an  unfaltering  heart, 
avouched  before  the  w^orld.  They  did  it  in  the  disre- 
gard of  self.  They  did  it  in  the  love  of  human  kind. 
They  did  it  in  the  fear  of  God,  and  in  dependence  on 
His  blessing.  These  were  the  sources  of  their  strength. 
From  these  their  hoj)e  derived  its  inspiration.  For 
these  they  suffered.  And  by  these  they  overcame. 
In  vain  do  Ave  succeed  to  their  inheritance,  if  we  forsake 

■•■■  "  Omnia  rcliquit  servare  rempublicam." — Motto  of  the  Order  of  the  Cincinnati. 


CIVIL  GOVEKKMEISTT  A  SACKED  TRUST  FEOM  GOD.      337 

their    principles,  and    lose    their    spirit.      Tliey  never 
thought  of  office,  but  as  a  sacred  trust,  borne  for  the 
common    good.       They  never    looked  on  war,  but  as 
the  last  necessity,  for  self  defence,  and  in  self-preserva- 
tion.   They  never  hoped  for  victory,  but  as  the  blessing 
of  the  God  of   battles  on  a  righteous  cause.       How 
did  a  little  one  become  a  thousand,  and  a  small  one 
a  strong  nation !      How  did  the  seed,  they  sowed  in 
tears,  swell  to  a  golden  harvest  ?     How  has  the  tree, 
they  planted    in    the    night,  and    watered  with  their 
blood,  spread    out,  and   filled    the  land !       For  abject 
poverty,  a  more    than    oriental    wealth  !      For  frown- 
ing forests,  scattered  hamlets,  and  towns  impoverished 
by  war,  fields   white   unto  the  sickle,  fair    villages,  in 
smiling  beauty  dotting  all  the  land,  cities  whose  com- 
merce fills  the  world !     For  the  precarious  favour  of 
one    patronizing     court,  an    equal    place    among    the 
proudest  nations  of  the  earth.      The  starry  flag,  which 
men  and  women,  living  now,  saw  first  set  free,  to  flut- 
ter in  the  winds  of  heaven ;  streaming  on  every  land, 
floating  on  every  sea,  bearing,  wherever  it  may  go,  the 
pledge  of  twenty  millions  of  free  men,  to  the  inviolable 
sanctuary  of  its  protecting  shadow.     This  is  the  lot  of 
our  inheritance.     Such  is  the  load  of  our  responsibility. 
Let  us  stand  up  to  it,  like  men.     Let  us  remember  who 
they  were,  and  what  they  did,  to  whom  we  owe  our  na- 
tion, and  our  name.     Let  us  be  like  them,  in  the  noble 
disregard  of  self     Let  us  be  like  them,  in  sincere  desires 
for  peace  with  all  mankind.      Let  us  be  like  them,  in 

the  simple  homage  of  true  hearts  to  their  protecting 
VOL.  IV. — 22 


338      CIVIL  GOVEENMENT  A  SACEED  TEUST  FEOM  GOD. 

and  preserving  God.  The  patriot  freeman,  like  tlie 
Christian,  has  no  self.  A  free  republic  makes  no  for- 
eign wars,  and  stands  in  fear  of  none  at  home.  The 
noblest  nature,  be  it  man,  or  be  it  angel,  is  the  natui'e 
that  most  freely  owns,  and  fervently  adores,  the  majesty 
of  God. 

Me.  Peesident,  and  Gentlemen  of  the  Cincinnati, 
— It  may  seem  that  I  have  chosen,  for  this  day,  a  strain 
unwonted,  of  solemnity  and  seriousness.  But  I  have 
deeply  felt  it  all.  I  have  deeply  felt  that  it  became 
us,  as  we  enter  now  upon  the  seventieth  year  of  our 
republic,  to  look  thoughtfully  upon  the  past,  to  dwell 
thoughtfully  upon  the  present,  to  peer  thoughtfully  in- 
to the  future.  We  hold  the  noblest  trust  that  God 
has  ever  given  to  any  nation  upon  earth.  We  hold  it 
at  a  time,  when  human  institutions  are  searched  and 
sifted,  with  a  fierce  and  fiery  ordeal,  such  as  never  sat 
on  them  before.  We  hold  it,  in  the  sight  of  all  the 
nations ;  and  to  lose  it,  or  to  falter  in  our  grasp  of  it, 
is  disappointment  to  the  highest  hopes  of  man,  is 
treachery  to  freedom  and  to  truth,  is  death  and  degra- 
dation to  ourselves.  This  is  no  time  for  the  set  phrases 
of  a  holiday  oration.  This  is  no  time  for  flights  of 
fancy,  and  the  flowers  of  complunent.  This  is  no  time 
for  self  complacency,  and  self  laudation.  We  have  a 
trust  to  keep.  We  have  a  mission  to  accomplish.  We 
have  a  work  to  do.  It  calls  for  seriousness.  It  calls 
for  earnestness.  It  calls  for  deep  solemnity.  Solemnity, 
in  the  examination  of  ourselves.     Solemnity,  in  trying 


CIVIL  GOVERNMENT  A  SACRED  TRUST  FROM  GOD.      3 13  9 

out  our  principles  aud  plans  of  action.  Solemnity,  in 
urging  on  our  fellow-citizens  the  duty  and  tlie  privilege 
of  tlieii'  devout  co-operation.  Solemnity,  in  tlie  sacred 
and  heartfelt  commendation  of  ourselves,  our  common 
country,  our  common  cause,  the  cause  of  all  mankind, 
to  our  protecting — if  need  be,  to  our  avenging,  God. 
Surely,  it  is  a  time  for  earnestness,  a  time  for  serious- 
ness, a  time  for  deep  solemnity. 

Another  thought  has  filled  and  weighed  upon  my 
soul.  In  you.  Gentlemen  of  the  Cincinnati,  I  recog- 
nize the  living  link  that  binds  the  present  with  the 
past.  You  represent  the  men  of  the  first  age  of  the 
Eepublic.  You  personify  to  us  the  immortal  band 
of  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy-six.  We  rever- 
ence in  you  the  patriots,  the  statesmen,  the  heroes, 
the  martyrs,  of  the  War  of  Independence.  You  are 
our  Hancock,  and  our  Franklin,  and  our  Washing- 
ton. I  seem  to  stand  in  the  deep,  dreadful  presence 
of  those  great,  heroic  men.  I  seem  to  feel  the  majesty 
of  theu^  serene  and  awful  port,  as  they  rise  up  before 
high  heaven,  and  make  that  glorious  vow,  that  "  these 
United  Colonies  are,  and  of  right  ought  to  be,  Free 
AND  Independent  States."  I  seem  to  hear  the  beat- 
ing of  their  manly  hearts,  as  they  go  forth  from  that 
august  apartment,  the  minute-men  of  freedom,  the 
advance-guard  of  mankind.  Matchless,  immortal  men  ! 
We  bless  your  memory.  We  boast  us  in  your  glorious 
name  !  Faithful,  untiring,  un seduced,  unterrified,  we 
follow,  where  you  led.  Be  with  us,  in  the  wisdom  of 
your  comisels !     Be  with  us,  in  the  trumpet  tones  of 


340      CIVIL  GOVEENMENT  A  SACKED  TKUST  FEOM  GOD. 

your  soul-stirring  eloquence  !  Be  with  us,  in  the  light 
of  your  exalted  and  benign  example !  The  God 
who  gave  you  to  us,  be  with  us,  as  He  was  with  you, 
to  guide  us,  and  to  bless  us !  To  keep  us  in  His 
holy  fear !  To  fill  us  with  His  perfect  peace  !  To 
make  the  light,  that  is  in  us,  from  Him,  shine  out,  for- 
evermore,  the  cynosure  of  nations,  the  lode-star  of  the 
world ! 


XL 
THE  GOODLY  HERITAGE  OF  JERSEYMEN. 


*  THE  FIRST  ANNUAL  ADDRESS  BEFORE  THE  NEW  JERSEY  HISTORI- 
CAL SOCIETY. 


I  NEVER  shall  forget,  witli  wliat  a  strange  and  start- 
led joy,  I  stopped,  and  stood,  and  gazed,  upon  a  few 
black  letters,  on  a  plain  deal  board,  at  tlie  corner  of  a 
street,  in  the  old  English  town  of  Lincoln.  I  had 
been  musing,  beneath  the  Roman  archway,  called  the 
Newport  Gate,f  of  the  ever-changing  stream  of  life, 
which  had  not  ceased  to  roll  through  it  for  twice  ten 
centuries ;  and,  busied  with  my  thoughts,  had  wan- 
dered off  alone.  When,  as  I  climbed  the  steep  ascent, 
on  which  the  town  is  built,  J  lifting  my  eyes  up  from  the 

*  January  15th,  A.  D.  1846.  Dedicated  to  the  President  of  the  Society,  "  the 
Hon.  Joseph  C.  Hornblower,  Chief  Justice  of  New  Jersey,  sustaining  the  insti- 
tutions of  his  native  State,  upon  the  Bench,  while  he  adorns  them  in  the  daily 
walks  of  life." 

f  "  The  ancient  Archway,  called  the  Neivport  Gate,  at  Lincoln,"  Britton  says, 
"  is  a  specimen  of  Roman  execution,  and  consists  of  very  large  stones,  placed  to- 
gether arch-wise,  and  without  mortar."  "  The  whole  is  rudely  constructed,  but 
of  such  substantial  materials,  that  it  seems  to  defy  all  the  operations  of  time  and 
weather." — Architectural  Antiquities,  v.  158.  The  width  of  the  archway  is  fifteen 
feet  nine  inches ;  its  height,  twelve  feet  four  inches  :  diminished  very  much,  no 
doubt,  by  the  filling  up  of  the  street.  Lincoln  is  probably  from  the  name  of  the 
ancient  Roman  Station,  lAndum  Colonia. 

X  Too  steep  to  be  ascended  by  carriages ;  which  make  use  of  a  circular  road, 
round  the  face  of  the  hill,  without  the  city. 


342  THE    GOODLY   HERITAGE    OF   JERSEYMEN". 

ground,  near  the  Danes'  Gate,  they  were  aiTested  by 
the  words,  "  New  Jersey."  *  It  scarcely  is  a  figure  to 
say,  that,  in  an  instant,  "  my  heart  was  in  my  mouth." 
Romans,  Danes,  English,  all  were  gone.  I  doubted  of  my 
very  sense  of  sight.  It  seemed  some  mirage  of  the  mind. 
Country,  and  friends,  and  home,  were  all  before  me.    My 

"  eyes 
"  Were  with  "  my  "'  heart,  and  that  was  far  away."  f 

I  stood,  a  Jerseyman,  and  in  New  Jersey. 
I  do  not  speak  of  this  as  if  it  were  at  all  peculiar, 
I  know  that  it  is  not.  The  Swiss  guards,  in  a  foreign 
land,  who  dared  all  dangers,  and  bore  all  privations, 
were  melted  to  desertion,  if  they  heard  the  simple 
native  song  with  which  the  cows  were  brought  from 
pasture.  J 

'■  The  intrepid  Swiss,  who  guards  a  foreign  shore, 
Condemned  to  climb  his  mountain-cliffs  no  more, 
If  chance  he  hears  that  song,  so  sweetly  wild, 
Which  on  those  cliffs  his  inf;mt  hours  beguiled. 
Melts  at  the  long-lost  scenes  that  round  him  rise, 
And  sinks,  a  martyr  to  repentant  sighs."  § 

*  I  inquired,  in  vain,  why  the  street,  or  court,  should  be  called  N^ew  Jersey. 
No  one  knew. 

\  Childe  Harold,  iv.  141. 

^  Jians  des  vaches ;  that  is,  rows  of  cows.  One  can  see  them  winding  along, 
among  the  rocks  of  their  wild  pasture  ground. 

§  Rogers,  Pleasures  of  Memory,  first  part.  In  his  notes,  he  has  the  following. 
"  The  celebrated  Rmis  des  vaches — '  cet  air  si  cheri  des  Suisses  qu'il  fut  defendu, 
sous  peine  de  mort,  de  la  jouer  dans  lour  troupes,  parce  qu'il  faisoit  foudre  en 
larmes,  deserter  ou  mourir  ceux  qui  I'entendoient,  tant  il  excitoit  en  eux  I'ardent 
desir  de  revoir  leur  pays.' — Rousseau.  The  maladie  du  pays  is  as  old  as  the  human 
heart.     Juvenal's  little  cup-bearer, 

'  Suspirat  loiigo  non  visam  tempore  matrem, 
Et  casulara,  et  notos  tristis  desiderat  hoedos;' 

and  the  Argive,  in  the  heat  of  battle, 

'  dulces  moriens  reminiscitur  Argos.'" 


THE  GOODLY  HERITAGE  OF  JEESEYMEN.      343 

No  :  it  is  not  peculiar.  I  cite  it  as  a  fact  in  natui*e. 
It  is  a  part  of  our  humanity.  A  touch  of  that  which 
makes  the  world  all  kin ;  so  that  the  man  who  felt  it 
not,  would  scarce  be  owned  of  human  kind.  And  T 
cite  it  now,  because  it  indicates,  as  no  elaborate  disser- 
tation could,  the  ground  on  which  I  stand  to-day,  and  the 
feelings  with  which  I  stand  on  it ;  the  feelings  and  the 
ground,  which,  if  our  coming  here  is  not  to  be  in  ^vain, 
you  must  share  with  me,  as  Jerseymen,  and  ii^  New 
Jersey.  Let  me  not,  for  one  moment,  be  misunderstood. 
I  yield  to  no  man  in  the  Catholic  comprehension,  which 
takes  in  the  world.  I  teach  no  truth  more  earnestly, 
than  that  which  filled  and  fired  the  fervent  soul  of  Paul ; 
that,  in  the  plan  of  God,  for  human  good,  there  should 
be  no  Jew,  no  Greek,  no  Scythian,  no  Barbarian,  but 
all  one  in  Jesus  Christ*  But  I  remember  David's 
longing  for  the  water  of  that  ancient  well,  by  the  town- 
gate,  where  he  had  bathed  his  boyhood's  brow.f  I 
remember  how  Paul  yearned  for  his  brethren,  his  "  kins- 
men according  to  the  flesh ;  "  and,  if  need  were,  would 
even  be  accursed  for  them.  J  And  I  remember — and  I 
speak  it  with  profoundest  reverence — ^how  that  blessed 
One,  who  "  gave  Himself  a  ransom  for  all,"  when  He 
was  come  near  Jerusalem,  beholding  it,  "  wept  over  it."  § 
To  love  our  neighbour  as  ourself,  is  not  to  sink  the 
brother  or  the  child.  Jesus  had  one  disciple,  "  whom 
He  loved."  The  house  will  soon  be  chilled,  in  which 
the  hearth-fires  are  gone  out.     There  were  no  Nile,  to 

*  Everywhere.     Especially,  Galatians  iii.  28,  and  Colossians  iii.  11. 

f  2  Samuel  xxiii.  15.  X  Romans  ix,  3.  §  St.  Luke  xix.  41. 


344  THE   GOODLY   HERITAGE    OF   JERSEYMEN. 

fatten  Egypt,  if  tlie'  fountains  were  not  full.  Trust  not 
in  his  philanthropy,  who  is  not  filial  as  a  son,  and  faithful 
as  a  friend.  He  can  be  no  American,  who  is  not  more 
a  Jerseyman. 

Mr.  President,  aot)  Gentlemen  of  the  Historical 
Society, — I  have  left  you  at  no  loss,  as  to  the  line  I  mean 
to  take  to-day.  I  have  come  here,  as  a  Jerseyman,  to  speak 
to  Jerseymen,  about  New  Jersey.  So  far  as  lies  in  me,  I 
wish  to  make  a  jersey  rally.  I  have  often  regretted 
that  that  rich  old  word,  the  Commonwealth,  should  have 
been  dropped,  so  generally,  for  the  meagre  and  unmean- 
ing monosyllable.  State.  Names  are  not  things  ;  and 
yet  they  go  together.  Men  never  disregard  the  name, 
when  they  esteem  the  thing.  Nor  do  they  often  keep 
the  thing,  when  they  have  lost  the  name.  There  has 
been  quite  too  little,  in  us,  of  the  true  notion  of  a 
com7non  wealth.  We  lack  community  of  feeling.  We 
are  of  Trenton,  or  of  Newark,  or  of  Burlington.  We 
are  of  ^ast  Jersey,  or  of    West  Jersey.*     We  are  not 

*  The  whole  of  the  country,  now  known  as  New  York  and  New  Jersey,  was 
granted  by  Charles  H.  to  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  York,  in  1664.  The  Duke  con- 
veyed the  part  now  called  New  Jersey,  to  the  Earl  of  Berkeley  and  Sir  George 
Carteret.  Sir  George  had  been  Governor  of  the  Island  of  Jersey.  The  name  of 
New  Jersey — or,  as  they  liked  to  call  it,  Neo-Casarea — was  given  to  the  province, 
as  a  compliment  to  him.  The  province  was  to  go  in  equal  parts :  the  Eastern,  to 
Carteret ;  the  Western,  to  Berkeley.  Hence  the  division  of  East  Jersey  and  West 
Jersey.  Strange  to  say,  the  line  is  by  no  means  certain.  Gordon,  on  the  map  in 
his  "  Gazetteer  and  History  of  New  Jersey,"  lays  down  two  lines  :  Keith's,  run  in 
1687  ;  and  Lawrence's,  run  in  1743.  The  difference  between  them  is  half  a  million 
of  acres;  one  ninth  of  the  whole  area  of  the  State.  If  I  could  find  the  line,  I 
should  like  well  enough  to  rub  it  out. — It  was  the  Lady  of  Sir  George  Carteret, 
of  -whom  Pepys  says,  in  his  simple  way :  "  Thence  to  my  house,  where  I  took 
great  pride  to  lead  her  through  the  Court,  by  the  hand,  she  being  very  fine^  and 
her  page  carrying  up  her  train." — Memoirs^  i.  284. 


THE   GOODLY   HERITAGE    OF   JERSEYMEN.  345 

ALL  Jerseymen.  There  is  scarcely  sucli  a  tiling  acknowl- 
edged, as  a  Jersey  interest.  We  are,  as  far  we  well  can 
be,  without  State  institutions,*  State  objects.  State  in- 
fluences. State  aims.  We  do  not  sympathize.  We 
rarely  congregate.  We  fail  to  co-operate.  It  was  a 
saying  of  Dr.  Franklin,  that  "  New  Jersey  was  like  a 
cider  barrel,  tapped  at  both  ends."  It  has  been  too 
literally  true.  We  have  been  too  well  content  to  lose 
ourselves  in  the  broad  shadows  of  the  two  great  states, 
which  stretch  on  either  side  of  us.  We  have  been  too 
willing  to  become  but  little  more  than  an  appendage 
to  the  two  chief  cities,  which  lie  upon  us,  on  the  right, 
and  on  the  left.  Our  young  men  have  been  too  ready  to 
exchange  their  native  name,  for  that  of  some  more  promi- 
nent member  of  our  great  confederacy.f  Our  vigorous 
minds,  our  skilful  hands,  our  generous  hearts,  have  gone 
abroad  too  much,  to  build  up  other  states,  and  to  ad- 
vance other  interests.  J  We  have  well-nigh  forgotten 
that  we  have  a  history.  We  have  almost  lost  the  very 
sense  of  our  identity.  We  have  had  no  centre.  We 
have  made  no  rally.      For  these  things,  I  have  long 


*  I  take  pleasure  in  recording  here  one  noble  exception — which  I  could  not 
so  well  speak  of  in  the  body  of  the  Address — the  establishment,  last  year,  of  a 
State  Lunatic  Asylum.     It  is  on  the  noblest  plan,  and  is  going  vigorously  on. 

•f-  Gordon  speaks  feelingly  on  this  subject.  "  The  State  has  been  an  officina 
gentium,  a  hive  of  nations,  constantly  sending  out  swarms,  whose  labours  have 
contributed  largely  to  build  up  the  two  greatest  marts  in  the  Union,  and  to  subdue 
and  fertilize  the  Western  wilds.  Instead,  therefore,  of  being  distinguished  for 
the  growth  of  numbers  within  her  borders,  she  is  remarkable  for  the  paucity  of 
their  increase." — 29. 

X  Burlington  county,  at  one  period,  supplied  Philadelphia  with  both  Mayor 
and  Recorder ;  Benjamin  W.  Richards,  Esq.,  and  Joseph  M'llvaine,  Esq.  The 
facile  principes  of  the  Bar,  in  the  city  of  New  York,  David  B.  Ogden,  Esq.,  and 
George  Wood,  Esq.,  are  native  Jerseymen. 


346  THE   GOODLY   HERITAGE    OF   JEESEYMEN. 

desired  the  establisliment  of  a  Historical  Society ;  as 
tliat  wliicli  was  most  likely  to  bring  us  all  together, 
and  to  bring  us  out.  For  these  things,  I  rejoiced  when 
this  Society  was  started ;  and  that  with  such  a  full  and 
vigorous  promise  of  success.  For  these  things,  I  con- 
sented to  stand  here.  It  is  my  firm  belief  that  in  all  that 
constitutes  the  essence  of  a  commonwealth — in  resources, 
in  opportunities,  in  capabilities  for  happiness  and  in- 
fluence with  men — New  Jersey  stands  unrivalled  in 
this  great  confederacy.  And  I  believe  as  firmly,  that 
the  reason  why  these  gifts  of  God  are  not  developed, 
for  His  glory,  and  the  good  of  men,  as  they  might  be, 
and  should  have  been,  is,  that  Jerseymen  have  never 
acted  on  a  Jersey  feeling.  They  have  not  justly  esti- 
mated their  great  advantages.  They  have  not  faithfully 
discharged  their  corresponding  duties.  Will  you  con- 
template with  me  our  "  goodly  heritage,"  as  Jersey- 
men  ?  Will  you  consider  with  me  our  just  responsibili- 
ties, as  such  ?  My  appeal  to  you,  my  fellow  citizens,  is 
in  the  spirit  of  that  old  Greek  adage,*  ^^laQrav  tXa- 
.;^6g  zavTccv  ^06 fist.  That  is  to  say,  being  interpreted  : 
your  lot  has  fallen  to  you  in  New  Jersey ;  bestir  your- 
selves to  make  the  best  of  it. 

Unfold  with  me  the  maj)  of  the  United  States.  Di- 
rect your  eye  along  the  sloping  line  of  the  Atlantic 
coast,  until  it  reach  well-nio-h  the  centre.  Select  what 
seems  the  snuggest,  sunniest  nook,  in  all  that  graceful 

*  Tt  is  quoted  by  Cicero,  in  a  letter  to  Atticus  ;  the  sixth  of  the  fourth  book. 
Erasmus  says,  "Admonet  adagium,  ut  quamcumque  provinciatn  erimus  forte 
nacti,  ei  nos  accomraodemus,  proque  hujus  dlgnitate  nos  geramus." — Proverbiorum 
Epitome^  639. 


THE   GOODLY    HERITAGE    OF   JERSEYMEN.  34'? 

sweep.  Rest,  where  a  noble  river  makes  almost  an 
island  witli  tlie  ocean  ;  washing  its  utmost  length,  and 
giving,  to  every  pine  that  crowns  the  summit  of  its 
farthest  mountains,  a  passage  to  the  sea.  It  is  the  lot 
of  our  inheritance.  Examine  it  more  closely.  See  how 
the  mountains  rivet  it  upon  the  mainland,  at  the  North. 
See  how  their  tall  and  rugged  peaks  sink  down  and 
soften,  in  the  gentle  swells,  and  genial  vallies,  of  the 
middle  counties.  See  what  a  stretch  of  coast,  until  the 
vast  alluvial  vanishes  away  into  the  broad  Atlantic. 
7^  there  a  question  ahout  climate  ?  I  am  satisfied  that 
if  the  arc  of  highest  points,  for  health,  and  comfort,  and 
enjoyment,  on  the  map  of  North  America,  could  be  des- 
cribed, it  would  sweep  through  New  Jersey.*  There 
is  no  better  test  of  this  than  in  the  abundance,  and 
variety,  and  perfection,  of  its  fruits.  This  was  the 
theme  of  admiration  with  the  earliest  settlers  of  the 

*  A  good  illustration  of  the  healthiness  of  New  Jersey,  however  homely  its 
expression,  occurs  in  a  letter  from  John  Cripps  to  Henry  Stacy,  written  "from 
Burhngton,  on  Delaware  River,  the  26th  of  the  eighth  month,  1677."  "  Here  is 
good  land  enough  lies  void,  would  serve  many  thousands  of  famihes ;  and  we  think 
if  they  cannot  live  here,  they  can  hardly  live  in  any  place  in  the  world."  "  The 
country  and  air  seems  to  be  very  agreeable  to  our  bodies,  and  we  have  good  stom- 
achs to  our  victuals:'  (Smith,  History  of  New  Jersey,  104.)  The  air  of  Burling- 
ton has  not  changed,  in  this  last  respect,  in  180  years.  Nor  is  it  less  true  now 
than  then,  that  we  have  good  victuals  to  our  stomachs.— It  may  be  said,  in  pass- 
ing, that  the  first  settlement  in  West  Jersey  was  at  Salem,  in  1675,  by  John  Fen- 
wick  and  his  companions,  who  came  from  London,  in  the  Griffith.  The  second 
ship  was  the  Kent,  also  from  London.  The  third  was  the  Willing  Mind,  from 
London.  The  fourth,  the  Martha,  from  Burlington,  in  Yorkshire.  Burlington 
was  laid  out  in  1677.  It  was  called  first  New  Beverly,  then  Bridlington.  This 
latter  was  the  early  name  of  Burlington,  in  England.  The  first  ship  that  came  up 
to  Burhngton,  was  the  Shield,  from  Hull,  in  1678.  "Against  Coaquannock," 
where  Philadelphia  now  is,  "being  a  bold  shore,  she  went  so  near,  in  turning, 
that  part  of  the  tackling  struck  the  trees.  Some  on  board  remarked,  it  was  a  fine 
spot  for  a  town." — Smith,  108. 


348  THE   GOODLY   HERITAGE    OF   JERSEYMEN. 

country,  and  deserves  to  loe  so  still.  "  I  have  seen 
orchards,"  one  writes  home,  in  1680,  "  laden  with  fruit, 
to  admiration  ;  their  very  limbs  torn  to  pieces  with  the 
weight,  and  most  delicious  to  the  taste,  and  lovely  to 
behold :  I  have  seen  an  apple  tree,  from  a  pippin  kernel, 
yield  a  ban^el  of  curious  cider ;  and  peaches  in  such 
plenty  that  some  people  took  their  carts  a  peach-gather- 
ing :  I  could  not  but  smile  at  the  conceit  of  it.  They 
are  a  very  delicate  fruit,  and  hang  almost  like  our 
onions  that  are  tied  on  ropes."  "  My  brother  Robert 
had  as  many  cherries  this  year  as  would  have  loaded 
several  carts.  It  is  my  judgment,  by  what  I  have  ob- 
served, that  fruit  trees  in  this  country  destroy  themselves 
by  the  very  weight  of  the  fruit."*  This  is  a  picture  from 
the  life,  as  all  who  hear  me  know.  Is  the  enquiry 
about  agricultural  production's  ?  What  can  be  named, 
of  food,  for  man  or  beast,  in  which  New  Jersey  is 
deficient  ?  f     Nay,  and  she  never  can  be,  if  her  fanners 

*  Mahlon  Stacy's  letter  from  Burlington,  "26th  of  fourth  month,  1680,"  to  his 
brother  Revell.  He  dwells  upon  the  fruits,  as  a  man  of  good  taste  might.  "  We 
have,  from  the  time  called  May,  until  Michaelmas,  great  store  of  very  good  wild 
fruits,  as  strawberries,  cranberries,  and  hurtleberries,  which  are  like  our  bilberries 
in  England,  but  far  sweeter.  They  are  very  wholesome  fruits.  The  cranberries 
much  like  cherries  for  colour  and  bigness,  which  may  be  kept  till  fruit  come  in 
again  ;  an  excellent  sauce  is  made  of  them  for  venison,  turkeys,  and  other  great 
fowl,  and  they  are  better  to  make  tarts  than  either  gooseberries  or  cherries." — 
Smith,  112.  In  another  letter,  "to  WiUiam  Cook,  of  Sheffield,  and  others,"  he 
writes,  "  This  is  a  most  brave  place  ;  whatever  envy  or  evil  spies  may  speak  of  it, 
I  could  wish  you  all  here,"  "  I  never  repented  my  coming  hither,  nor  yet  remem- 
bered thy  arguments  and  outcry  against  New  Jersey,  with  regret.  I  live  as  well 
to  my  content,  and  in  as  great  plenty  as  ever  I  did,  and  in  a  far  more  likely  way 
to  get  an  estate." — Smith,  114. 

f  The  first  settlers  of  New  Jersey  had  a  shrewd  eye  to  its  agricultural  capa- 
bilities, which  has  not  been  disappointed.  "Well,  here  is  a  brave  country,"  writes 
Samuel  Groome,  Surveyor-General  of  East  Jersey,  in  1685,  "the  ground  very 
fruitful,  and  wonderfully  inclinable  to  English  grass,  as  clover,  &c."     "  In  short, 


THE    GOODLY   HEEITAGE    OF   JEESEYMEN.  349 

mind  their  business.  Limestone  and  Marl  divide  the 
land  between  them.  The  very  rocks  are  made  to 
fertilize  the  soil  which  lies  upon  them  ;  or  the  moulder- 
ing shell-fish,  of  the  world  before  the  flood,  convert  the 
worthless  sand-waste  into  fields  of  smiling  corn.  Facili- 
ties of  transportation,  constantly  increasing,  rapidly 
equalize  the  land ;  and  soon  will  bring  it  all  into  success- 
ful cultivation.  "While  the  river  or  the  creek,  the  rail- 
road or  canal,  that  spreads  the  lime  or  marl  upon  the 
fields,  takes  down  the  corn  or  wheat,  the  butter  or  the 
pork,  to  the  insatiable  market  of  the  cities  and  the 
ports  of  foreign  export.  Such  are  the  agricultural 
advantages  of  New  Jersey,  that  the  Massachusetts  State 
Commissioner,  now  travelling  in  foreign  countries,  on 
enquiries  in  the  line  of  his  department,  has  habitually 
advised  young  men,  from  the  New  England  states,  t'* 
come  and  settle  here  :  the  climate  and  the  soil  yielding 
to  equal  labour  a  larger  return  of  profit  and  of  comfort, 
than  in  any  other  state  in  our  whole  Union.*  Nay,  and 
old  Ocean  smiles,  and  yields  his  treasures  for  our  cul- 
ture. "  The  oysters  "  that  one  wrote,  from  Perth  Am- 
boy,  in    1684,  "  would    serve  all  England,"  f  are  still 

the  land  is  four  times  better  tlian  I  expected." — Smith,  114.  And  Gawin  Lawrie, 
deputy  Governor  of  East  Jersey,  under  Robert  Barclay,  writes,  "  all  things  very 
plenty :  land  very  good  as  ever  I  saw."  John  Barclay  and  others,  write  from 
Elizabethtown  :  "  We  see  little  wanting  that  a  man  can  desire  ;  and  we  are  sure 
that  a  sober  and  industrious  people  might  make  this  a  rich  country,  and  enrich 
themselves  by  it." — Smith,  183.  It  is  to  their  statement  that  Bancroft  alludes: 
"  Peaches  and  vines  grew  wild  on  the  river  sides  ;  the  woods  were  crimsoned  with 
strawberries;  and  'brave  oysters'  abounded  along  the  shore.  Brooks  and  rivu- 
lets, with  '  curious  clear  water,'  were  as  plenty  as  in  the  dear  native  Scotland." 

*  This  agrees  with  what  Barclay  and  others  said,  in  1684.  "We  see  that 
people  here  want  nothing,  and  yet  their  labour  is  very  small." 

\  "  At  Amboy  Point,  and  several  other  places,  there  is  abundance  of  brave 


350  THE    GOODLY    HERITAGE    OF   JERSEYMEN. 

there ;  and  in  plantations  to  supply  tlie  world.  Is  the 
enquiry  of  our  mineral  resources  ?  They  are  innumer- 
able and  inexhaustible.*  Marble,  of  every  kind,  and 
every  quality.  Slate,  in  abundance.  Varieties  of  clay, 
for  every  use,  up  to  the  finest  porcelains.  A  free-stone 
from  New  Jersey,  rears,  at  the  head  of  the  great  mart 
of  commerce  in  our  Western  world,  a  Christian  Church, 
of  noblest,  most  impressive  architecture ;  which  if  it 
could,  would  lift  the  hearts  of  men  up  with  their 
eyes  to  heaven.f  The  richest  ores  of  iron ;  copj^er,  in 
singular  purity ;  rare  stores  of  zinc.  In  very  deed, 
"  a  land  whose  stones  are  iron,  and  out  of  whose  hills 
thou  mayest  dig  brass."J  Are  the  results  of  useful  art 
the  suhject  of  investigation  ?  With  such  a  store  of  raw 
materials,  in  every  kind ;  with  water  power,  incalculable ; 
wdth  coal,  in  inexhaustible  supplies,  lying  at  the  very 
door ;  with  skilful  heads  and  vigorous  hands  to  turn 
them  all  to  best  account,  there  is  no  branch  of  manufac- 
tures which  is  not,  or  may  not  be  made  available  to  Jer- 
seymen.  Paterson,  and  Newark,  and  Belleville,  and 
Dover,  and  Trenton,  and  Bridgeton,  need  but  sufficient 
capital  and  enterprise  to  be  oui'  Manchester,  our  Shef- 
field, and  our  Birmingham.  While,  for  commercial 
purposes^  inland  and  foreign,  our  noble  canals,  our  most 
efficient  railroads,  the  majestic  Delaware,  the  broad  At- 

oysters." — Smith,  184.  The  very  shells,  as  lime,  quicken  our  fields  into  fer- 
tility. 

*  See  the  valuable  Report  of  the  State  Geologist,  professor  Henry  D.  Rogers, 
on  the  Geology  of  New  Jersey. 

\  The  stone  of  which  Trinity  Church,  New  York,  is  built,  is  frona  Little  Falls, 
near  Paterson,  in  this  State. 

\  Deuteronomy  viii.  9. 


THE   GOODLY   HERITAGE    OF   JERSEYMEIST.  351 

lantic — New  York  and  Philadelpliia,  as  mucli  our  ports, 
as  if  they  lay  upon  our  waters — give  us  at  once  a  vast 
home  market,  and  the  market  of  mankind. 

And  these  are  but  the  outside  of  the  case.  We  pos- 
sess, in  a  degree  unrivalled,  every  form  of  civil,  social, 
moral,  and  political  advantage.  What  can  be  happier 
than  our  geographical  position  ?  We  are  free  from  the 
burden  which  bears  down  the  Southern  States,  visiting 
the  fathers'  sins  upon  the  children,  and  yet  have  not  to 
struggle  with  the  rigours  and  reverses  of  the  surly 
North.  Our  social  posture  is  a  happy  mean  between 
the  two.  There  are  not  the  carking  care  and  unrelaxed 
devotion  to  the  work-day  world,  which  mark  the  people 
of  New  England ;  nor  yet  the  apathy  and  languor  which 
deaden  human  energy,  in  lower  latitudes,  and  in  a  dif- 
ferent state  of  social  life.  A  happy  moderation  is  the 
characteristic  of  our  people.  There  is  neither  extreme, 
among  us,  of  riches  or  of  poverty.  A  competence  is 
easy  to  obtain.  The  general  seek  no  more.  The  chil- 
dren start  from  very  nearly  the  same  level  with  their 
parents  ;  and  leave  to  theirs  to  do  the  same.  A  great 
accumulation  is  but  rare.  Proportionally  rare  the  fash- 
ions and  the  follies  which  are  apt  to  follow  in  its  train. 
A  more  contented,  happier  j)eople,  in  their  home  rela- 
tions, is  not  shone  on  by  the  Sun.  The  absence  of  any 
great  city,  or  large  town,  is  an  advantage  to  the  State. 
It  would  destroy  the  equilibrium  of  the  body  politic. 
It  would  control  by  influence,  or  else  perpetuate  dissen- 
tion.  We  have  the  advantages  of  two,  with  but  a  small 
share  of  the  disadvantao:es  of  anv.     It  is  not  their  least 


352  THE    GOODLY    HERITAGE    OF    JEESEYMEN. 

benefit  to  us,  that,  by  tlie  overshadowing  of  tlieir  great- 
ness, they  make  rivalry  in  us  impossible.  The  historic 
annals  of  our  State  are  in  a  special  manner  free  from 
stain.  They  record  no  breach  of  faith  with  "  the  poor 
Indian."  They  bear  no  record  of  religious  persecu- 
tion. There  is  no  blood  upon  them,  but  that  which 
liberty  demands  and  consecrates ;  the  blood  which 
patriot  freemen  offer,  as  a  pure  libation,  for  their 
fire-sides  and  their  altars.  "No  man  to  be  arrested, 
condemned,  imprisoned,  or  molested,  in  his  estate  or 
liberty,  but  by  twelve  men  of  the  neighbourhood ;  no 
man  to  lie  in  prison  for  debt,  but  that  his  estate  satisfy 
as  far  as  it  will  go,  and  be  set  at  liberty  to  work ;  no 
person  to  be  called  in  question  or  molested  for  his  con- 
science, or  for  worshipping  according  to  his  conscience,"  * 
was,  from  the  earliest  times,  the  alphabet  of  freedom,  in 
New  Jersey.  And  they  were  good  at  spelling  with  it. 
When  five  per  cent,  upon  the  invoice  of  all  imports 
from  the  mother  land  was  charged  upon  the  settlers,  the 
argument  of  Samuel  Jennings,  a  brave  old  Schoolmaster, 
in  this  behalf,  as  the  Lord  Cornbury  found,  was  in  this 
fashion.  "  Tell  us  the  title,  by  what  right  or  law  we 
are  thus  used,  that  may  a  little  mitigate  our  pain. 
Your  answer  hitherto  hath  been,  '  that  it  was  a  con- 
quered country ;  and  that  the  King  being  the  conqueror, 
he  has  power  to  make  laws,  raise  money,  &c.,  and  that 
this  power  the  King  hath  vested  in  the  Duke,  and  by 
that  right  and  sovereignty  the  Duke  demands  the 
custom  we  complain  of       But  suppose  the  King  were 

*  Instructions  from  the  Proprietors,  iu  1676. 


THE  GOODLY  HEEITAGE  OF  JERSEYMEN.      353 

an  absolute  conqueror  in  tlie  case  depending,  dotli  Ms 
power  extend  equally  over  Ms  own  Englisli  people,  as 
over  tlie  conquered  ?  Are  not  they  some  of  tlie  letters 
that  make  up  the  word,  conqueror  ?  Did  Alexander 
conquer  alone  ?  Or  Caesar  beat  by  himself  ?  The  Nor- 
man Duke"  "  used  not  the  companions  of  his  victory 
so  ill.  Natural  right  and  human  prudence  oppose  such 
doctrine,  all  the  world  over."'""  The  hundred  years 
which  followed,  to  the  war  of  independence,  did  not  put 
out  this  lire.  New  Jersey  was  the  Flanders  of  the  Rev- 
olution. The  foot  of  war  was  not  removed  from  oif  her 
plains,  for  more  than  one  year  of  the  seven.  Scarcely 
an  acre  of  her  soil  but  shared  the  fortunes  of  the  fight. 
While  Trenton,  Princeton,  Monmouth,  are  household 
words,  for  childrens'  children,  to  the  latest  generation : 

among 

"  the  few,  the  immortal  names 

'  That  were  not  born  to  die." 

Where  can  be  found  a  simpler,  less  expensive,  more 
beneficial,  administration  of  government  ?  Where  is  a 
state  less  conversant  with  debt  ?  What  people  are 
more  lightly  taxed  ?  f     Where  are  the  laws  more  equal 

*  Argument  addressed  to  the  Commissioners  of  the  Duke  of  York,  concerning 
the  customs  demanded  in  West  New  Jersey. — Smith,  129.  Jenings  was  after- 
wards Deputy  Governor.  He  was  Speaker  of  the  Assembly,  during  Lord  Corn- 
bury's  administration.  When  the  Assembly  remonstrated  against  some  acts  of  his 
administration,  Jenings,  as  Speaker,  delivered  the  remonstrance  :  "  The  Governor 
frequently  interrupted  him  with,  ^<ojo  .'  Whafsthat? — at  the  same  time  putting 
on  a  countenance  of  authority  and  sternness,  witli  intention  to  confound  him. 
With  due  submission,  yet  firmness,  whenever  interrupted,  he  calmly  desired  leave 
to  read  the  passagts  over  again,  and  did  it  with  an  additional  emphasis  on  those 
most  complaining ;  so  that,  on  the  second  reading,  they  became  more  observable 
than  before." — Smith,  295. 

f  Governor  Stratton's  Message,  just  dehvered,  shows,  for  the  current  year,  a 
VOL.  IV. — 23 


354  THE    GOODLY   HERITAGE   OF   JEESEYMEN. 

or  more  certain  ?  Where  are  they  more  effectively 
sustained  and  clieerfully  obeyed  ?  Wliere  is  another 
instance  of  a  state,  laying  aside  the  badges  and  the 
names,  the  principles  and  prejudices  of  party  ;  and,  by 
the  hands  of  her  choice  men,  deliberately,  dispassion- 
ately, resolvedly,  reforming  her  frame  of  government : 
making  no  sacrifice  to  popular  favour  or  partisan 
distinctions,  and  quietly,  and  as  one  man,  passing,  from 
a  Colonial  Charter,  to  an  independent  constitution  ?* 

Such  is  a  dim  and  shadowy  outline  of  our  "  goodly 
HERITAGE,"  AS  JERSEYMEN.  It  is  for  you,  dear  friends, 
to  fill  it  up,  and  grave  it  deeply  in  your  hearts,  and  gild 
it  with  the  blessed  radiance  that  lights  up  your  happy 
hearths  and  homes.  It  is  for  you  to  own  the  fulness 
of  your  debt,  and  2:)rove  your  depth  of  grateful  love,  by 
the  discharge  of  the  high  duties  and  immense  responsi- 
bilities to  God,  your  country,  and  the  generations  yet 
to  come,  that  it  may  be  an  heritage  forever.  Tliis  is 
our  Sparta.  It  is  for  us  to  mahe  the  best  of  it.  The 
time  would  fail  me,  to  point  out  the  ways,  in  which  the 
duties  and  the  debt  of  citizenship,  are  to  be  owned  and 
paid.  Nor  need  I  do  it.  If  your  hearts  have  risen  with 
mine  to  the  appreciation  of  our  great  and  gracious 
privileges,  they  will  be  swift  to  own  them,  and  intuitive, 
in  skill,  to  magnify  and  to  j^erpetuate  them.  It  needs 
no  great  exertion.  It  calls  for  no  specific  effort.  It 
asks  no  signal  sacrifice.     It  is  in  daily  duties,  and  habit- 

balanco  of  seventy  thousand  dollars,  to  meet  extraordinary  expenses.  The  State 
tax  averages  but  about  ten  cents  a  head,  on  the  whole  population. 

The  history  of  the  late  Convention,  to  revise  the  Constitution  of  New  Jer- 
sey, is  without  a  parallel. 


THE    GOODLY    HEEITAGE    OF   JEKSEYMEN.  355 

iial  services,  and  unconscious  influences,  that  it  is  most 
effectively  performed.  As,  by  the  hearth  of  home,  the 
tender  charities  of  life  spring  up,  spontaneous  and 
uncounted,  in  the  light  of  mutual  love.  I  gratefully 
acknowledge  that  the  last  few  years  have  seen  much 
progress  in  this  great  result.  Traversing  annually  its 
length  and  breadth,  I  witness  every  year  new  marks  of 
progress,  and  new  trophies  of  improvement."^'  The 
work,  that  might  have  been  set  down  for  half  a  century, 
ten  years  have  well  nigh  done.  Improved  appliances 
in  agriculture  are  every  where  in  hand.  Improved 
facilities  in  transportation  are  every  where  encouraging 
their  application.  An  interest  in  horticulture  is  touch- 
ing all  the  landscape  with  a  new  and  gentler  grace. 
The  efforts  of  the  new  Society,  for  its  promotion,  be- 
gin to  be  appreciated.  The  day  is  hastening,  when  it 
may  not  need  a  poet^s  eye,  to  find  the  garden  of  the 
Hesperides,  at  Newark,  or  Princeton.f  In  architecture, 
too,  there  is  a  marked  advancement.  It  is  beginning 
to  be  felt,  that  the  house  of  God  need  not  be  mean  or 
homely.  The  taste  of  private  individuals  is  dotting  all 
our  towns  and  rural  nooks  with  homes,  where  comfort 

*  It  was  Mr.  Clay,  I  believe,  who  spoke  of  New  Jersey,  as  "  the  State  of  beau- 
tiful Villages."  And,  with  what  truth !  Few  know  how  much  and  vai-ied  in  its 
beauty  Xew  Jersey  is  ;  because  few  know  much  of  the  State,  but  by  the  railroads. 
There  is  nothing  in  its  kind  more  worthy  of  a  visit  than  the  scenery  of  the  Water 
Gap.  The  counties  of  Warren,  Hunterdon,  and  Morris,  are  nowhere  surpassed  in 
richness  and  variety  of  prospect.  Long  Branch  and  Cape  May,  are  the  most  fa- 
voured and  favourite  resorts,  in  the  whole  land,  for  the  beauties  and  the  comforts 
of  the  Sea. 

f  As  in  the  beautiful  grounds  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Wright,  and  Mr.  Norris,  at  the 
former ;  and,  at  Fieldwood — shall  I  not  say  ? — near  the  latter.  Mr.  Field  is  the 
President  of  the  New  Jersey  Horticultural  Society,  ■which  owes  very  much  to  his 
zealous  interest  in  its  objects. 


356  THE   GOODLY   HERITAGE   OF   JERSEYMEN. 

dwells  witli  beauty.  And  here,  tlie  transformation  of 
the  State  House — so  appro]3nate,  so  convenient,  so 
commanding,  such  perfect  fitness,  and  such  admirable 
taste — more  than  redeems  the  past,  and  gives  a  noble 
2)romise  for  the  future. 

The  life  of  a  State  is  in  the  past  and  in  the  future. 
The  State,  that  does  not  honour  its  illustrious  dead,  and 
make  provision  for  the  full  and  perfect  training  of  its 
children,  is  derelict  in  duty ;  and  must  endure  its  penalty, 
in  the  oblivion  of  the  past,  and  in  disorganization  for 
the  future.  A  State  must  have  its  immortality  on  earth. 
Its  past  must  give  the  colour  to  its  futui^e.  As  that 
future  becomes  past,  the  dies  will  deepen,  and  the  retri- 
bution be  more  fierce.  The  State,  that  sows  the  wind, 
must  reap  the  whirlwind.  An  inglorious  past  will  earn 
a  more  inglorious  future.  Neglected  children  will 
become  unhonoured  fathers.  A  spring  time,  without 
sowing,  brings  an  autumn,  without  harvest.  Li  both 
these  two  respects,  New  Jersey  has  been  signally  defi- 
cient. 

She  has  done  what  in  her  lay  to  have  no  history. 
As  William  Penn,  in  1676,  found  it  essential  to  begin 
a  letter  to  his  friends  and  brethren,  with  the  assurance 
"  that  there  is  such  a  province  as  New  Jersey,  is  cer- 
tain ;  "'^  so,  but  for  maps  and  school  geographies,  the 
fact  might  still  be  deemed  apocryphal.  There  is  no 
Calendar  of  patriots  and  heroes,  in  New  Jersey.  The 
record  of  her  sons,  so  far  as  she  has  seemed  to  care, 
has  been  allowed  to  perish  with  them.     "Where  are  the 

*  Smith,  89. 


THE    GOODLY   HEEITAGE    OF   JEESEYMEJST.  357 

statues  of  the  founders  of  tlie  State  ?  Wliere  is  tlie 
gallery  of  portraits  of  tlie  statesmen  and  the  soldiers  of 
the  war  of  Independence  ?  Where  is  the  registry, 
more  authentic  than  the  Almanac,  to  give  the  names 
and  dates,  that  shall  identity  a  Livingston,  a  Schuyler, 
a  Stockton,  or  a  Southard?  Where  are  the  ancient 
records  of  the  first  enterprises  in  this  old  colony  ? 
Where  are  the  household  letters,  stained  with  many  a 
tear,  that  told  of  troubles,  and  of  trials,  borne  in  unre- 
pining  patience,  through  the  hope  that  is  in  Christ  ? 
Where  are  the  papers,  filled  with  "  thoughts  that 
breathe,  and  words  that  burn,"  that  A\Tought  the  way 
for  the  great  struggle  of  the  nation,  or  recorded  its 
encouragements  and  triumphs  ?  It  is  not  rash  to  say, 
that  no  one  State,  in  all  the  old  thirteen,  was  richer  in 
these  holy  relics  of  the  past ;  that  none  is  noAv  so  poor. 
In  this  respect,  another  era  has,  I  trust,  begun.  To 
you,  gentlemen  of  the  Historical  Society,  successive 
generations  will  look  back  with  gratitude,  as  patiiot 
preservers  of  their  ancestral  fame.  A  volume  of  colonial 
history,  the  work  of  a  son  of  New  Jersey,  produced  and 
published  while  your  first  year  had  not  filled  its  round, 
is  your  free  pledge  to  all  your  kind,  that  you  are  in 
earnest  in  the  cause ;  and  that,  what  your  enterprise 
can  rescue  and  joreserve,  is  sure  and  safe.  I  offer  you, 
for  this  good  work,  the  thanks  and  the  congratulations 
of  your  countrymen.* 

*  History  of  "  East  Jersey,  under  the  Proprietary  Governments  ;  a  Narrative 
of  events  connected  with  the  settlement  and  progress  of  the  Province,  until  the 
surrender  of  the  government  to  the  Crown,  in  1702,"  by  William  A.  Whitehead, 
of  Newark  ;  with  an  Appendix,  consisting  of  "  The  Model  of  the  Government  of 


358  THE    GOODLY    HERITAGE    OF   JERSEYMEN. 

I  blush  to  say,  tliat  in  tlie  cause  of  education,  New 
Jersey  does  lierself  no  justice.  She  is  not  careful  of  her 
childi'en.  Her  children  will  not  care  for  her.  Uniilial 
sons  are  the  sure  progeny  of  an  unnatural  mother.  Of 
the  two  learned  institutions  of  the  State,  I  speak  with 
an  unfeigned  respect.'""  They  have  done  noble  service 
for  the  country.  No  prouder  names,  in  arts  or  arms,  in 
science  or  in  letters,  in  the  halls  of  government,  or  in 
the  sanctuaries  of  our  religion,  adorn  the  annals  of 
America,  than  those  whom  they  have  sent  forth  from 
their  venerable  walls.  And  they  are  now  discharging 
their  high  functions,  with  an  ability,  a  fidelity,  and  a 
success,  which  set  them  in  the  first  rant  of  the  institu- 
tions of  our  land.  But  what  share  has  the  State  in  all 
this  honour  ?  What  has  the  State  done,  what  is  the 
State  now  doing,  to  encourage  and  assist  them  in  their 
work  ?■  New  Jersey,  as  a  State,  does  nothing  for  the 
arts,  does  nothing  for  science,  does  nothing  for  letters. 
She  scarcely  recognizes  that  she  has  a  child.  She  virtu- 
ally denies  it,  in  her  almost  total  disregard  even  of  their 
elementary  education.  This  is  a  burning  shame.  The 
brand  of  it  is  on  our  brow.  Shall  we  submit  to  bear 
it  ?  We  cannot,  and  not  so  approve  ourselves  traitors 
to  God  and  man,  in  the  neglect  of  means  and  opportu- 

East  New  Jersey  in  America,  by  George  Scot  of  Pitlochie,"  reprinted  for  the  first 
time  from  the  original  edition  of  1685. — The  sheets  of  this  volume,  a  perfect 
beauty  in  typography,  were  circulated  at  the  annual  meeting.  Will  Mr.  White- 
head permit  me  to  remind  him  that  "one  good  turn  deserves  another  ;"  that  hav- 
ing done  so  well  for  East  Jersey,  he  is  now  to  do  the  same  for  West ;  that  it  will 
then  remain  for  him  to  bring  the  story  down,  from  the  period  of  their  union,  to 
the  adoption  of  the  new  State  Constitution  ? 

*  The  College  of  New  Jersey,  at  Princeton,  incorporated  in  1746 ;  and  Rut- 
gei''s  College,  at  New  Brunswick,  in  1770. 


THE  GOODLY  HEEITAGE  OF  JEESEYMEN.      359 

nities,  sucli  as  no  otlier  State  in  all  the  Union  lias. 
New  Jersey  ouglit  to  be,  wliat  Athens  was  to  Greece, 
the  eye  of  our  confederacy.  In  her  central  position,  in 
the  facilities  of  access  to  her,  in  the  salubrity  of  her 
climate,  in  the  moderate  condition  of  her  people,  in  the 
absence  of  absorbing  interests,  in  her  simplicity  of  man- 
ners, in  the  serene  seclusion  of  her  beautiful  retreats,  in 
every  thing  that  the  broad  name  of  nature  compre- 
hends, New  Jersey  is  the  State  for  education.  In  some 
States,  commerce,  in  some,  agriculture,  in  some,  manu- 
factures, may  be  the  leading  interest.  Ours  should  be 
education.  From  CarjDenter's  Point  to  Cape  May,  New 
Jersey  should  be  studded  all  with  schools.  Academies 
and  higher  institutions  should  adorn  and  bless  her 
larger  towns.  Her  Colleges  should  be  supplied  "  with 
all  appliances  and  means,  to  boot,"  to  carry  out  the 
work,  to  its  most  comprehensive  range,  and  up  to  its 
most  lofty  elevation.  Above  all,  these  things  should 
be  consecrated  to  God,  in  the  sole  name  of  Jesus  Christ, 
for  the  eternal  welfare,  as  for  the  present  comfort,  of 
om'  race.  The  foundations  of  New  Jersey  were  laid  in 
the  fear  of  God.  "  Be  it  known  unto  you  all,  in  the 
name  and  fear  of  Almighty  God,  His  glory  and  honour, 
power  and  wisdom,  truth  and  kingdom,  is  dearer  to  us 
than  all  visible  things,"  is  the  devout  and  manly  lan- 
guage of  one  of  its  most  ancient  public  documents.*  As 
the  foundation  was  laid,  so  should  the  superstructure 
be  built  up,  and  crowned,  in  faith,  and  fear,  and  prayer. 

*  What  Smith  calls,  "  a  cautionary  Epistle,"  from  William  Penn,  Gawin  Laurie, 
and  Nicholas  Lucas,  in  1676. 


360  THE   GOODLY   HEEITAGE    OF   JERSEYMEN. 

In  all  tlie  life  of  Dr.  Franklin,  there  is  no  page  so  beau- 
tiful as  that  which  bears  the  record  of  his  motion,  that 
the  daily  sessions  of  the  Convention  for  forming  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States  begin  with  prayer. 
"  Mr.  President,"  he  said,  "  the  small  progress  we  have 
made,  after  four  or  five  weeks'  close  attendance,  and  con- 
tinual reasoning  with  each  other,  our  different  senti- 
ments on  almost  every  question,  several  of  the  last  pro- 
ducing as  many  noes  as  ayes,  is,  methinks,  a  melancholy 
proof  of  the  imperfection  of  the  human  understanding. 
We  indeed  seem  to  feel  our  own  want  of  political  wis- 
dom, since  we  have  been  running  all  about  in  search  of 
it.  We  have  gone  back  to  ancient  histoiy  for  models 
of  government,  and  examined  the  different  forms  of 
those  republics,  which,  having  been  originally  formed 
with  the  seeds  of  their  o-^\ti  dissolution,  now  no  longer 
exist ;  and  we  have  viewed  modern  States  all  around 
Europe  :  but  find  none  of  their  constitutions  suita- 
ble to  our  circumstances.  In  this  situation  of  this  as- 
sembly, groping  as  it  were,  in  the  dark,  to  find  political 
truth,  and  unable  to  distinguish  it  when  presented  to 
us,  how  has  it  happened.  Sir,  that  we  have  not  hitherto 
once  thought  of  humbly  applying  to  the  Father  of 
lights,  to  illuminate  our  understandings  ?  In  the  be- 
2:innin2:  of  the  contest  with  Britain,  when  we  were  sen- 
sible  of  danger,  we  had  daily  prayers  in  this  room  for 
the  divine  protection.  Our  prayers,  Sir,  were  heard ; 
and  they  ^vere  gi-aciously  answered.  All  of  us,  who 
were  engaged  in  the  struggle,  must  have  observed  fre- 
quent instances  of  a  superintending  Providence  in  our 


THE  GOODLY  HERITAGE  OF  JEESEYME^".      361 

favour.     To  tliat  same  Providence,  we  owe  tlie  liappy 
opportunity  of  consulting  in  peace  on  the  means  of  es- 
tablishing our  future  national  felicity.     And  have  we 
now  forgotten  that  powerful  Friend  ?      Or  do  we  imag- 
ine we  no  longer  need  His  assistance  ?     I  have  lived,  Sir, 
a  long  time  ;  and  the  longer  I  live,  the  more  convincing 
proofs  I  see  of  this  truth,  tliat  God  governs  in  the  af- 
fairs of  men.     And,  if  a  sparrow  cannot  foil  to  the 
ground  without  His  notice,  is  it  probal>le  that  an  em- 
pire can  rise  without  His  aid  ?     We  have  been  assured 
Sir,  in  the  sacred  ^viitings,  '  that  except  the  Lord  build 
the  house,  their  labour  is  but  lost  that  build  it.'     I 
firmly  believe  this ;  and  I  also  believe,  that  without 
His  concurring  aid,  w^e  shall  succeed  in  this  political 
building   no   better   than  the  builders  of  Babel :  we 
shall  be  divided  by  our  little,  partial,  local  interests. 
Our  projects  will  be  confounded ;    and  we  ourselves 
shall  become  a  reproach  and  a  bye-word  to  future  ages. 
And,  what  is  worse,  mankind  may  hereafter,  from  this 
unfortunate   instance,  despair   of  establishing  govern- 
ment by  human  wisdom,  and  leave  it  to  chance,  war, 
and  concpiest.     I  therefore   beg  leave  to  move,  that, 
henceforth,  daily  prayers,  imploring  the  assistance  of 
Heaven,  and  its  blessing  on  our  deliberations,  be  held 
in  this  Assembly,  every  morning,  before  we  proceed  to 
business ;  and  that  one  or  more  of  the  clergy  of  this 
city  be  requested  to  officiate  in  that  service."  ''^     There 

*  Sparks'  edition  of  Franklin's  Works,  V.  153-155. — I  cannot  deny  myself  the 
pleasure  of  recording  here  a  most  interesting  and  gratifying  coincidence.  I  do  it 
in  the  language  of  a  correspondent  of  the  Newark  Daily  Advertiser,  personally 
unknown  to  me,  omitting  his  words  of  kindness  to  myself.     "  The  daily  Sessions 


362  THE   GOODLl.:    IIEEITAGE    OF   JERSEYMEN. 

spoke  the  truest  wisdom,  the  most  enlarged  philan- 
thropy, the  loftiest  patriotism,  the  profoundest  piety. 
"  Righteousness  exalteth  a  nation :  but  sin  is  the  re- 
proach of  any  j^eople."  *  "  O,  pray  for  the  peace  of  Je- 
rusalem :  they  shall  prosper  that  love  thee."  f  "  Happy 
are  the  people  that  are  in  such  a  case :  yea,  blessed  are 
the  people  who  have  the  Lord  for  their  God."  J 

One  single  sad  word  more,  my  heart  cannot  forego. 
Brief  as  has  been  the  term  of  our  existence,  as  a  So- 
ciety, it  has  been  long  enough  for  death  to  wound  us  in 
our  tenderest  place.  The  joy  of  our  first  anniversary 
mingles  itself  with  grief.  Since  our  last  quarterly  as- 
sembling, we  have  lost — oh,  how  immense  his  gain !  the 
excellent,  the  learned,  the  accomplished,  the  patriotic 
Dod.      Oh,  had  he  stood  where  I  stand,  §  how  his 

of  the  Legislature,  as  you  will  see  by  the  report  of  the  proceedings  of  the  House, 
are,  for  the  first  time  in  our  history,  to  be  opened  with  prayer."  "  It  is  a  notable 
coincidence  that  the  vote  was  taken  only  a  few  minutes  before  the  deUvery  of 
Bishop  Doane's  Address  before  the  Historical  Society  ;  in  which  he  called  the  at- 
tention of  the  audience,  which  included  the  members  of  both  houses,  to  Dr.  Frank- 
lin's emphatic  and  remarkable  speech,  when  he  made  a  motion,  similar  to  that  of 
Mr.  McLean,  in  the  old  Convention,  which  framed  the  Federal  Constitution.  It 
can  scarcely  be  necessary  to  add  that  it  was  a  coincidence.  The  Legislature  could 
not  have  known  the  Bishop's  intention  ;  nor  had  the  Bishop  any  knowledge  what- 
ever of  the  purpose  of  the  mover." 

*  Proverbs  xiv.  34.  f  Psalm  cxxii.  G. 

jj.  Psalm  cxlv.  15.  How  admirably  this  Psalm  describes  our  case  !  "  Our  gar- 
ners" are  "  full  and  plenteous,  with  all  manner  of  store  ;  "  "  our  sheep"  do  "  bring 
forth  thousands  and  ten  thousands  in  our  streets ; "  "  our  oxen  are  strong  to 
labour ; "  and  there  is  "  no  decay,  no  leading  into  captivity,  and  no  complaining 
in  our  streets."  Shall  we  not  be  as  careful  to  realize  the  truth,  the  comfort  and 
the  beauty  of  the  verse  next  preceding :  "  that  our  sons  may  grow  up  as  the 
young  plants,  and  that  our  daughters  may  be  as  the  polished  corners  of  the 
temple  "  ? 

§  The  following  letter  to  the  Editor  of  the  Burlington  Gazette,  will  explain  the 
allusions  here : 

It  was  a  grief  of  heart,  such  as  I  seldom  had  to  bear,  that  I  was  not  at  the 


THE   GOODLY   HERITAGE   OF   JERSEYMEN.  3G3 

manly  bosom  would  have  swelled  !  Oli,  liad  lie  stood 
where  I  stand,  how  his  beaming  eye  would  have  flashed 
new  fires  !  Oh,  had  he  stood  where  1  stand,  how  his 
clear  trumpet  voice  would  have  been  lifted  up !  He 
was  a  man  ;  and  all  the  instincts  of  a  man  kindled  and 

funeral  of  this  beloved  and  lamented  man.  An  engagement  of  positive  duty, 
made  before  I  knew  of  his  illness,  which  I  could  neither  delegate  nor  defer,  re- 
quired me  to  go  from  home,  in  another  direction.  But  I  was  there  in  spirit ;  and 
few  were  there,  out  of  the  charmed  circle  of  his  own  immediate  friends,  to  weep 
for  him  more  bitter  tears.  I  truly  think,  that  New  Jersey  had  not  any  son  of 
brighter  promise,  for  her  interests  and  fame.  And  I  am  filled  with  awful  adoration 
when  I  reflect,  how  rich  and  full  His  store  of  providence  must  be,  "Who,  seeing  to 
the  end,  from  the  beginning,  has  withdrawn  him  from  us,  when  his  days  seemed 
not  half  spent,  and  when  his  usefulness  and  influence  were  spreading  so,  and  deep- 
ening, every  day. 

I  knew  him  well,  and  loved  him  better  than  I  knew  him.  We  often  met  at  the 
house  of  a  dear  and  venerable  friend,  and  never  without  a  marked  increase  of 
mutual  love.  He  was  a  man  of  a  most  Catholic  mind,  and  of  a  more  Catholic  heart. 
It  took  in  all  its  kind  ;  and  yet  lost  nothing  from  its  individuality  of  tenderness. 
This  was  most  strikingly  illustrated  in  what  drew  him  in,  into  the  inmost  circle  of 
my  bosom,  his  unexampled  devotion  to  young  Stockton  Boudinot.  He  took  him 
to  his  house.  He  took  him  to  his  heart.  He  forgot  his  own  infirmities  of  body. 
He  endured,  beyond  the  endurance  of  the  strongest  man.  He  practised  the  in- 
ventive tenderness  of  the  most  gentle  woman.  I  saw  his  daily  letters,  from  the 
bedside  of  the  sufferer,  to  the  excellent  lady  I  have  alluded  to  above.  They  were 
perfect  in  their  kind.  So  discreet,  so  tender,  so  touching.  With  each  successive 
reading,  my  estimate  of  his  unrivalled  friendship  was  increased.  And,  at  the 
close  of  the  strange  case,  unparalleled  in  all  the  records  of  the  profession,  I  felt, 
and  said,  that,  if  such  calamity  should  fall  on  me  or  mine,  I  could  ask  nothing 
from  the  Lord,  with  the  confidence  of  His  paternal  mercy,  but  such  a  friend  as 
Dr.  Dod.  I  wrote  to  him  what  I  had  felt.  And,  on  the  very  day  before  the  sick- 
ness seized  him,  which  in  one  week  closed  his  life,  he  wrote  to  me  the  following 
letter.  Believing  it  to  be  one  of  the  very  last  he  ever  wrote,  I  do  not  permit 
its  strong  expressions  of  personal  kindness  to  prevent  my  sending  it  to  you  entire. 
"I  was  very  deeply  affected  by  the  heartiness  of  your  kind  letter.  Had  I  wished 
for  notice  and  applause,  such  commendation,  from  such  a  source,  would  have  satis- 
fied my  highest  ambition.  But  your  quick  and  broad  humanity  will  enable  you  to 
comprehend  me  fully,  when  I  reply,  in  the  words  of  our  favourite  poet- 
philosopher — 

I've  heard  of  hearts  unkind,  kind  deeds 

"With  coldness  still  returning; 

Alas !  the  gri-atitude  of  men 

Hath  oftcner  left  me  mourning.' 

• 
"I  perceive,  by  the  published  report  of  the  proceedings  of  the  Xew  Jersey 

Historical  Society,  that  I  have  been  appointed  to  deliver  the  Address  at  their 


364  THE   GOODLY   IIEEITAGE   OF   JEESEYMEIST. 

glowed  in  him.  'No  interest  of  humanity  but  found  in 
him  an  advocate  most  eloquent.  No  effort  for  human- 
ity but  won  from  him  his  voice,  and  hand,  and  heart. 
While,  his  devotion  to  his  native  State  glowed  ever 
with  a  fire  the  more  intense,  for  the  unbounded  com- 

next  meeting,  and  that  you  are  my  alternate.  I  could  have  wished  that  this  or- 
der had  been  reversed.  In  a  conversation  which  I  had,  the  day  before  the  meet- 
ing, with  the  Chairman  of  the  Executive  Committee,  I  requested  him  to  see  to  it, 
that  you  were  requested  to  deliver  the  next  Address.  But  as  I  had  failed  on  this 
occasion,  and  for  what  seemed  a  good  and  sufficient  reason,  I  suppose  they  felt 
unwilling  to  thrust  me  unceremoniously  aside.  It  is  every  way  desirable,  for  in- 
trinsic and  external  reasons,  that  the  Address  before  the  first  Annual  Meeting  of 
the  Society,  should  be  delivered  by  you.  And  it  is  evident  that,  but  for  the  acci- 
dent of  my  being  in  the  way,  you  would  have  been  selected  for  the  performance 
of  the  duty.  I  have  to  request,  therefore,  that  you  will  be  good  enough  to  con- 
sider yourself  charged  w't  i  it.  In  making  this  request,  I  am  not  governed  solely 
by  a  feeling  of  propriety ;  though  that  would  be  enough.  But  under  existing  cir- 
cumstances, it  would  be  impossible  for  me  to  do  justice  to  the  Society  or  to  my- 
self, in  the  discharge  of  this  duty.  I  am  struggling  with  some  form  of  nervous 
disease,  which  disquiets  and  dispirits  me  ;  and,  for  the  cure  or  alleviation  of 
which,  my  physician  enjoins  me  to  be  in  the  open  air  as  much  as  possible ;  and 
intermit,  as  far  as  I  can,  studious  application.  I  find,  too,  that  the  case  of 'poor 
Boudinot  has  taken  such  a  hold  on  me,  that  I  cannot  shake  it  off.  There  is 
scarcely  a  night  in  which  I  do  not  dream  of  him,  with  dreams  of  so  vivid  and 
half  wakeful  a  character,  that  their  impression  remains  with  me  through  the  day. 
So  long  as  he  was  alive,  and  there  was  any  thing  to  be  done  for  hira,  he  was  the 
object  of  action.  Now,  I  find  that  his  long  illness  has  become  the  subject  of 
thought." 

I  wrote  to  him  at  once — a  letter  which  I  suppose  he  never  read — to  say,  that 
though  I  had  counted  on  his  discharging  the  duty  before  the  Historical  Society, 
leaving  me  no  other  responsibility  than  might  providentially  occur,  I  would  cer- 
tainly comply  with  his  request ;  assuring  him  of  my  prayers  that  God  would  soon 
restore  him  to  health  and  duty:  and  inviting  him  to  visit  us  at  Burlington.  The 
next  tidings  were  that  he  was  very  ill.  The  next,  that  he  was  dead !  "  What 
shadows  we  are,  and  what  shadows  we  pursue !  "  But  he  died  in  the  midst  of 
usefulness.  He  died  in  the  enjoyment  of  universal  confidence  and  respect.  He 
died  in  the  satisfaction  of  unwearied  and  unbounded  love.  He  was  one  in  whom 
the  spirit  "  o'er-informed  "  the  flesh.  He  had  a  great  heart,  and  its  throbbings 
had  worn  out  its  frame.  The  overworking  of  the  mind  had  loosed  his  hold  on 
life.  He  sank  under  the  shock  of  the  acute  disease  which  had  assailed  him  ;  and 
had  not  physical  ability  to  rally.  Though  not  for  himself  too  soon,  it  is  too  soon 
for  us.  His  greatness  grew  with  every  day.  The  masculine  vigour  of  his  mind 
grappled  all  subjects,  and  could  master  all.  His  generous  enthusiasm  kindled  the 
young  hearts,  that   it  drew  to  him,  with  its  own  fires.     And  now,  in  this  last 


THE   GOODLY    IIEKITAGE    OF   JERSEY5IEN.  365 

prehension  of  liis  love.  How  nol)ly  lie  led  on  in  the 
great  cause  of  education  here,  who  does  not  know  ? 
How  zealously  he  entered  into  this  new  enterprise,  who 
did  not  feel  ?  In  him,  if  he  were  living,  I  would  find 
the  bright  example  I  have  sought  to  draw  ;  for  he  was, 
"  every  inch,"  a  Jerseyman.  And  now,  to  his  new 
grave,  I  sadly  turn,  and  say,  "  there  lies  the  noblest  Ro- 

service  of  his  life — it  was  his  very  last — he  had  developed,  with  all  that  is  bravest 
in  a  man,  whatever  in  a  woman  is  most  lovely  and  engaging.  "  Felix  opportuui- 
tate  mortis." 

Of  his  intellectual  character  and  attainments,  of  the  daily  beauty  of  his  social 
and  domestic  life,  of  his  Christian  walk  and  conversation,  others  have  spoken,  and 
will  speak,  with  fuller  opportunities  than  I  could  have.  Few  with  a  fuller  love. 
"Nulli  fiebilior  quam  mihi."  I  never  met  with  him,  in  private  or  in  public,  in 
steamboat  or  in  stage,  that  we  did  not  warm  and  glow  together.  He  was  a-glow 
with  all  the  generous  instincts  of  humanity.  They  were  refined,  in  him,  and 
sanctified,  by  the  "  live  coal,"  which  seraphs  have  in  hand.  He  combined,  most 
rarely,  a  keen,  broad,  sound  and  manly  practicalness,  with  the  loftiest  and  most 
generous  enthusiasm.  I  have  often  thought,  that  had  he  not  been  a  great  mathe- 
matician, he  would  have  been  a  greater  poet.  He  illustrated  this  in  his  zealous 
devotion  to  that,  which,  of  all  pursuits  of  men,  combines  the  most  of  the  practical 
with  the  best  of  the  poetical,  Gothic  architecture.  It  was  his  favourite  study,  and 
most  fervent  theme.  He  was  in  love  with  it.  "  You  will  say,"  he  said  to  me,  in 
his  own  hearty  playfulness,  "that  I  have  stolen  your  thunder!  " 

I  saw  him  last  in  Princeton.  His  last  acts  to  me  were  acts  of  hospitality.  His 
last  words  were  the  words  of  friendship.  And,  what  I  value  most  of  all,  I  was  among 
the  thoughts  of  his  last  hours.  "  On  Tuesday  night,"  says  Professor  Hodge,  his 
distinguished  fellow  labourer,  and  faithful  friend,  "  when  we  all  thought  him  very 
near  his  end,  he  charged  me  with  several  messages  to  his  absent  friends ;  and 
said,  '  I  have  been  thinking  of  Bishop  Doane,  and  should  like  to  see  him,  and  wish 
him  to  know  it.'  I  feel  that  I  am  discharging  a  duty  to  our  departed  friend,  in 
conveying  to  you  the  simple  intimation,  that  he  thought  of  you  with  kindness,  in 
the  last  hours  of  his  life." — None,  from  beyond  the  immediate  circle  in  which  my 
life  is  passed,  have  won  for  me  a  livelier  interest  and  affection.  No  message  from 
a  death-bed,  has  come  nearer  to  my  heart,  or  dwells  more  warmly  there. 

Into  the  secret  places  of  their  sorrow,  to  whom  this  stroke  comes  nearest 
home,  it  were  profane  to  enter.  Thanks  be  to  God  for  the  revelation,  which  the 
ages  that  had  wandered  from  Him  farthest  cherished  as  a  pleasing  dream,  that  the 
bolt  makes  sacred  what  it  strikes  !  The  most  endearing  names  to  Ilim  are  those 
of  widow  and  of  orphan  "  He  is  a  father  of  the  fiitherlcss,  and  dcfcndeth  the 
cause  of  the  widows ;  even  God,  in  His  holy  habitation." 

G.  W.  D. 

KivERsiDE,  27  Xovei7ihei\  1S45. 


366  THE   GOODLY    HERITAGE   OF   JERSEYMEN. 

man  of  them  all."  He  went,  for  us,  and  for  New  Jer- 
sey, all  too  soon.  We  must  take  up  tlie  work  lie  did 
not  finisli.  If  we  take  it  up  in  liis  spirit,  if  we  pursue 
it  with  Lis  energy,  we  shall  redeem  the  past,  we  shall 
adorn  and  bless  the  future ;  and  children's  children,  and 
their  children's  children,  after  them,  will  rise  and  say, 

WE  TCO  ARE  JeRSEYMEN  ! 


I. 

ONE  WORLD  ;    ONE  WASHINGTON. 

*  THE   ORATION  BEFORE   THE    LADY    MANAGERS  OF  THE  MOUNT 
VERNON  ASSOCIATION. 

Plutarch  could  write  liis  lives  in  parallels ;  an  il- 
lustrious Greek,  by  the  side  of  an  illustrious  Roman  : 
Tlieseus,  witli  Romulus ;  Pericles,  mtli  Fabius  Maxi- 
mus ;  Aristides,  witli  Cato  Major ;  Alexander,  with 
Julius  Caesar.  Where  shall  the  future  Plutarch  find 
Ills  parallel,  whose  birthday  twins,  with  that  of  the 
Republic  ?  Next  to  the  Fom^th  day  of  July,  scarcely 
below  it,  in  the  calendar  of  patriotism,  stands  the 
twenty-second  day  of  Febniary.  The  two,  the  Festi- 
vals of  thirty  millions  of  free  men,  already ;  to  be, 
through  all  the  ages,  next  to  the  sacred  anniversaries, 
the  holy  days  of  human  nature.  Who  shall  deny  the 
legend,  which  our  eagle  bears  to-day  :  "  One  World  ; 
ONE  Washington  !  " 

Nations  are  Trustees,  for  the  names  of  their  great 
men.     It  is  a  sacred,  it  is  a  solemn  trust.     Shall  I  do 

*  February  22d,  A.  D.  1859 — At  the  request  of  the  Lady  Managers  of  the  As- 
sociation, and  of  the  Mayor  and  many  citizens  of  Burlington.     The  motto  is  from 

Ennius ; 

"Ergo,  magisque,  magisquo,  viri,  nunc,  gloria  claret." 


368  ONE  woELD  ;    one  Washington. 

wrong,  to  say,  it  is  their  most  sacred,  tlieir  most  solemn, 
trust  1  God  lent  them,  to  their  country,  for  a  while. 
He  endowed  them,  Avith  intellectual  powers.  He  im- 
bued them,  with  ti'anscendent  virtues.  He  made  them, 
noblemen  of  truth.  He  set,  upon  their  brow,  the  coro- 
net of  glory.  He  let  them  labour  ;  let  them  suffer ;  let 
them  be  reviled :  perhaps,  He  let  them  die,  upon  the 
scaffold  ;  in  the  dungeon  ;  on  the  battle-field.  Was  it 
for  one  country  ?  Was  it  for  tlieir  own  generation  ? 
Was  it  for  a  single  age  ?  No.  They  were  monarchs 
of  mankind.  They  were  darlings  of  humanity.  They 
were  central  stars,  to  light  the  world.  And  they  are 
blazing  on,  and  they  will  blaze  on,  to  be  the  cynosure 
of  unborn  hearts ;  in  nations,  yet,  undreamed  of.  Was 
Aristides  just,  for  the  Athenians  alone  ?  Or,  Cincin- 
natus,  Tmt,  the  patriot  of  Rome  ?  Have  I  no  share  in 
Socrates  ?  Are  Alfred,  Wallace,  Tell,  not  ours  ?  Were 
Shakspeare,  Milton,  Newton,  not,  for  us  ?  How  beau- 
tiful it  is,  this  Catholicity  of  greatness !  The  First 
Consul  of  France,  directed,  that  all  the  standards  of  the 
Republic  should  be  hung,  with  crape  :  and  issued  the 
following  order,  to  the  Army  :  "  Washington  is  dead. 
This  great  man  fought  against  tyranny.  He  estab- 
lished the  liberty  of  his  country.  His  memory  will,  al- 
ways, be  dear,  to  the  French  people :  as  it  will  l;>e,  to 
all  free  men,  of  the  two  w^orlds."  Lord  Bridport,  who 
commanded  the  British  fleet,  off  Torbay,  lowered  his 
flag,  half  mast ;  on  hearing  the  intelligence.  And  the 
whole  fleet,  of  sixty  shij^s  of  the  line,  followed  his  ex- 
ample.    And,  but  the  other  day,  some  officers  of  our 


ONE  WORLD  ;  ONE  WASHINGTON.         369 

expedition,  to  Japan,  under  tlie  command  of  the  la- 
mented Perry,  were  surprised  to  hear,  from  the  official 
of  a  Loo  Choo  town,  such  words  as  these  :  "  gentlemen, 
Doo  Choo  man,  very  small.  American  man,  not  very 
small.  I  have  read  of  America,  in  books,  of  Washing- 
ton. Very  good  man ;  very  good."  So  true,  it  is,  that 
great  men  are  not  their  own.  Are  not  their  country's. 
Are  not  of  their  own  time.  They  are  the  world's. 
They  are  humanity's.  They  are  eternity's.  They  are 
God's.  And,  the  nations,  who  have  had  the  use  of 
them,  from  God,  are  Trustees  of  their  names ;  for  Him, 
and  for  mankind. 

If  it  be  so,  what  a  trust  is  ours :  to  whom  God  lent 
the  foremost  name,  that  inspiration  has  not  consecrated ; 
the  name  of  Washington.  "  One  Washington ;  one 
World  !  "  In  making  this  unqualified,  uncompromis- 
ing, challenge ;  Washington,  against  the  world :  I  am 
not  held  to  institute,  in  detail,  the  comparison,  between 
his  greatness  and  the  greatness  of  the  world's  great 
men.  The  time  would  fail  me,  to  attempt  it ;  and, 
much  more,  your  patience.  And,  then,  it  would  be 
asking  me  to  prove  a  negative ;  to  show  that  this  or 
that  great  man  was  not  as  great  as  he.  Let  me,  rather, 
in  such  feeble  measure,  as  I  may,  attempt  to  show,  how 
great  he  was.  It  will  be  for  him,  who  can,  to  find  one 
greater ;  and,  so,  gainsay,  the  legend  of  our  glorious 
eagle  :  "  One  World  ;  one  Washington  !  " 

And,  here,  the  very  difficulty,  which  meets  us,  at  the 
threshold,  as  to  where  we  shall  begin,  is  most  conclu- 
sive of  his  greatness.  In  a  triangle,  a  square,  a  poly- 
voL.  IV. — 24 


370  ONE  world;   one  Washington. 

gon,  there  are  starting  points,  for  tlie  delineation.  The 
circle,  the  only  perfect  figure,  has  no  beginning.  No 
human  eye  can  bear  the  full-orbed  splendour  of  the  solar 
light.  Disintegrated,  by  the  skill  of  Newton,  the  rays 
of  the  prismatic  spectrum  are  as  soft  and  lambent,  as 
an  infant's  smile.  There  are  other  great  men,  of  whom, 
the  same  is  true.  Shakspeare,  pre-eminently.  Whom 
would  any  body  undertake  to  compare  with  Shaks- 
peare ?  The  ingenious  Germans  meet  the  case,  by  mul- 
tiplication. They  call  him,  "  myriad-minded."  Wash- 
ington was  not  that.  He  was  one-minded.  The  circle 
is  the  best  exponent  of  his  character.  The  simplest  of 
all  figures.  Consisting  of  one  line,  only.  And,  yet 
complete,  and  perfect.  The  only  figure,  which  a  sin- 
gle direction  of  the  hand  can  form.  The  one,  which  is, 
always,  the  same :  which,  always,  pleases  :  and,  which, 
never,  tires.  It  was  finely  said,  of  Shakspeare,  by  Dr. 
Samuel  Johnson, 

"  Each  change  of  many-colored  life,  he  drew : 
Exhausted  worlds ;  and,  then,  imagined  new." 

But,  in  all  his  dreamings,  Shakspeare  never  dreamed 
of  Washington.  And,  all  the  great  men,  of  all  his 
dramas,  would  not  supply  his  greatness. 

A  very  common  measure  of  human  greatness  is  the 
want  of  opportunity.  To  make  a  gold  ring,  from  the 
ingot,  is  no  great  enterprise.  To  make  it,  without,  re- 
quires the  Philosopher's  stone.  Washington's  means 
of  education  were  very  limited.  Till  he  was  fourteen, 
his  Almia  Mater  was  "  an  old  field  school-house."     His 


ONE   WORLD  ;     ONE    WASHINGTON.  3*71 

teacher,  a  tenant  of  his  father,  was  the  sexton  of  the 
parish.  And,  though  he  then  went  to  a  better  school, 
it  was  only  for  two  years.  Before  his  sixteenth  birth- 
day, he  had  done  with  schools.  He  was,  what  is  called, 
"  self-made."     But,  he  was  well  made. 

Early  attainments  and  rapid  progress  are  commonly 
considered  marks  of  greatness.     They  are  not,  always. 
Early  ripe,  is,  often,  early  rotten.     It  was  not  so  with 
Washington.      During  the  three  years,  from  his  six- 
teenth, he  was  a  commissioned  Public  Surveyor.     At 
nineteen,  he  was  appointed  Military  Inspector,  with  the 
rank  of  Major.     At  twenty,  he  was  sent,  by  the  Govern- 
or of  Virginia,  six  hundred  miles,  through  the  Indian 
country,  as  a  Commissioner,  to  confer  with  the  Com- 
mander of  the  French  forces ;  and  inquire  by  what  au- 
thority, he  presumed  to  invade  the  King's  dominions, 
and  what  were  his  intentions :  a  service,  difficult  and 
full  of  danger ;  but,  most  successfully  performed.     At 
twenty-five,  he  was  appointed  to  the  chief  command  of 
the  troops,  to  be  sent  out,  by  Governor  Dinwiddle, 
against  the  French.     When  the  number  was  increased 
three-fold,  he  was  made  second  in  command,  with  the 
rank  of  Lieutenant  Colonel ;  and,  appointed  Colonel  of 
the  Virginia  regiment,  when  he  was  not  yet  twenty- 
three.     This  was  not  what  we  speak  of,  now,  as  "  Young 
America."      The   green  wood,  used  for   carved  work. 
There  was  nothing  "  fast,"  in  Washington.      His  was 
timber,  seasoned,  with  sobriety,  and  self-denial ;   not 
without  prayer.     The  Colonel  of  twenty-two,  in  the 
camp,  at  the  Great  Meadows,  in  the  absence  of  a  Chap- 


3*72  ONE  WOULD  ;    one  Washington. 

lain,  said  prayers,  before  the  regiment,  liimself.  A  beau- 
tiful siglit,  it  must  bave  been,  "  The  youthful  com- 
mander, presiding,  ^vitb  calm  seriousness,  over  a  motley 
assemblage,  of  half-equipped  soldiery,  leathern-clad 
hunters,  and  woodsmen,  and  painted  savages,  with  their 
wives  and  children ;  and  uniting  them  all,  in  solemn 
devotion,  by  his  own  example  and  demeanor."  * 

A  year  has  passed.  It  is  a  morning,  in  July.  The 
sun  has  not  yet  risen.  The  Monongahela  gleams  and 
glitters,  in  the  early  light ;  as  it  rolls,  onward,  through 
the  open  forest.  Upon  its  Southern  bank,  an  army  is 
just  forming.  Every  man  is  in  uniform.  The  officers 
are  in  full  dress.  The  sun  gleams,  fi*om  the  burnished 
arms.  Bayonets  fixed,  colom\s  flying,  drums  beating, 
fifes  playing :  they  descend  the  verdant  slope  ;  they  ford 
the  river ;  they  Avind  along  its  bank.  The  Grenadier's 
March  is  in  their  ears ;  and  every  heart  keeps  time, 
with  it.  It  is  the  British  aiTuy,  under  General  Brad- 
dock,  on  their  expedition  against  Fort  Duquesne.  He 
was  a  brave  man,  and  an  accomplished  officer.  But  he 
was  in  a  strange  country.  It  was  a  new  mode  of  war- 
fare. He  was  ignorant  of  the  Indian  character.  He 
would  not  listen  to  Washington,  who  perfectly  under- 
stood it.  It  was,  now,  two  o'clock.  The  army  had 
marched,  thus  far,  without  interruption.  But,  hark, 
there  is  a  heavy  firing,  in  the  front.  There,  is  the  fear- 
ful Indian  yell.  Every  tree  conceals  a  man.  They  are 
mowed  down,  by  unseen  rifles.  Braddock  is  brave. 
His  officers  are  brave.     His  men  are  brave.     But,  of 

*  Irving's  Life. 


OISTE    WORLD  ;     ONE    WASHINGTON.  3*7?) 

wLat  use  is  bravery,  at  sncli  odds  !  They  fall,  by  pla- 
toons. In  tlie  confusion,  friend  kills  friend.  The  rear 
rank  fires,  upon  the  front.  The  Indian  scalps  the  offi- 
cer, whom  his  own  men  have  shot.  Braddock,  himself, 
receives  a  fatal  wound.  It  is  a  perfect  rout.  Baggage, 
stores,  artillery,  are  left.  Of  eighty-six  officers,  twenty- 
six  are  killed ;  thirty-six  are  wounded.  Of  twelve  hun- 
di'ed  men,  the  killed  and  wounded  are  seven  hundred. 
The  young  Virginia  Colonel,  in  the  meantime,  was 
every  where.  Two  horses  were  shot,  under  him.-  Four 
bullets  jiassed  through  his  coat.  He  seemed  to  bear  a 
charmed  life.  Fifteen  years,  after  that,  an  aged  Indian 
Chief  went,  a  long  way,  to  see  him.  He  told  him,  that, 
on  Braddock's  fatak field,  he  fired  his  rifle,  at  him,  many 
times ;  and  had  directed  his  young  braves  to  do  the 
same.  To  their  astonishment,  without  effect.  He  was 
convinced,  that  he  must  be  under  the  special  care  of  the 
Good  Spirit ;  and  they  ceased  to  fire  at  him.  He  had 
come  to  see  the  man,  who  could  not  die,  in  battle. 
Was  he  not  shielded,  by  the  panoply  of  prayer  ?  Had 
not  the  angels  charge  over  him,  that  no  weapon  should 
do  him  harm  ?  In  all  the  war,  he  never  had  a  wound. 
In  words,  almost  prophetic,  the  eloquent  Samuel  Da- 
vies,  in  a  sermon,  occasioned  by  Braddock's  defeat,  after 
praising  the  Virginia  troops,  for  zeal  and  coiu"age,  went 
on  to  say,  "  As  a  remarkable  instance  of  this,  I  may 
point  out,  to  the  public,  that  heroic  youth.  Colonel 
Washington ;  whom,  I  cannot  but  hope.  Providence  has, 
hitherto,  preserved,  in  so  signal  a  manner,  for  some  im- 
portant service,  to  his  country." 


374  ONE    WORLD  ;     OKE   WASHINGTON^. 

It  is  now,  1774.  The  nineteen  years  from  the  bat- 
tle of  the  Monongahela,  have  been  passed^  in  domestic 
bliss,  in  his  favomite  pursuit  of  agriculture,  and  in  pub- 
lic duty,  military  and  civil.  At  his  first  appearance, 
in  a  civil  capacity,  as  a  member  of  the  House  of  Bur- 
gesses, a  beautiful  scene  occurred.  "  By  a  vote  of  the 
House,  it  had  been  determined  to  greet  his  instalment, 
by  a  signal  testimonial  of  respect.  Accordingly,  as 
soon  as  he  took  his  seat,  Mr.  Bobison,  the  Speaker,  in 
eloquent  language,  dictated  by  the  warmth  of  private 
friendship,  returned  thanks,  on  behalf  of  the  Colony, 
for  the  distinguished  military  services,  he  had  rendered 
to  his  country.  Washington  rose  to  reply ;  blushed, 
stammered,  trembled,  and  could  not  utter  a  word. 
'  Sit  down,  Mr.  Washington,'  said  the  Speaker,  with  a 
smile ;  '  your  modesty  equals  your  valour ;  and  that 
surpasses  the  power  of  any  language,  I  possess.'  "  The 
nineteen  years,  from  1755,  had  been  most  successfally 
employed,  by  the  mother  country,  in  alienating  the  af 
fections  of  her  American  daughter.  The  people  of  the 
Colonies,  goaded  by  the  increasing  pressure  of  injustice 
and  oppression,  were  meditating  independence.  The 
first  Continental  Congress  met,  in  Philadelphia,  on  the 
5th  of  September,  1774.  Of  this  Washington  was  a 
member.  His  position  there,  is  well  stated,  by  Patrick 
Henry,  the  celebrated  orator  of  freedom.  Being  asked, 
after  his  return,  whom  he  thought  the  greatest  man,  in 
Congress,  he  replied,  "  If  you  speak  of  eloquence,  Mr. 
Butledge,  of  South  Carolina,  is  by  far  the  greatest  ora- 
tor.    But,  if  3^ou  speak  of  solid  information  and  sound 


ONE   WORLD  ;     ONE    WASHINGTON.  375 

judgment,  Colonel  Washington  is,  unquestionably,  tlie 
greatest  man,  on  that  floor."  By  the  second  Congress, 
which  met  in  Philadelphia,  on  the  10th  of  May,  1*7  75, 
the  sword  of  liberty  was  drawn.  Hostilities,  indeed, 
had  begun.  Blood  had  been  shed,  at  Lexington,  and 
Concord.  The  Continental  army  was  organized,  by 
Congress :  and  George  Washington,  of  Virginia,  on  the 
suggestion  of  John  Adams,  of  Massachusetts,  was, 
unanimously,  elected.  Commander-in-chief  The  manner 
of  his  acceptance  was  worthy  of  himself.  Never,  were 
modesty  and  generosity  more  beautifally  illustrated. 
His  modesty.  "  Lest  some  unlucky  event,  should  hap- 
pen, unfavourable  to  my  reputation,  I  beg  it  may  be 
remembered,  by  every  gentleman  in  the  room,  that  I, 
this  day,  declare,  with  the  utmost  sincerity,  I  do  not 
think  myself  equal  to  the  command,  I  am  honoured 
with."  His  generosity.  "  I  beg  leave  to  assure  the 
Congress,  that,  as  no  pecuniary  consideration  would 
have  tempted  me  to  accept  this  arduous  emplojmient, 
at  the  expense  of  my  domestic  ease  and  happiness,  I  do 
not  wish  to  make  any  profit  from  it.  I  will  keep  an 
exact  account  of  my  expenses.  Those,  I  doubt  not, 
they  will  discharge  ;  and  that  is  all  I  desire."  He  did 
keep  his  account  strictly ;  and  that  was  all  he  received. 
From  the  day,  that  he  took  command  of  the  Ameri- 
can army,  at  Cambridge,  July  3,  IV 75,  through  the 
whole  of  that  eight  years'  war,  what  was  he  not,  to  the 
great  cause  ?  It  was  a  boastful  saying  of  a  Monarch  of 
the  French,  "  The  State ;  it  is  myself!  "  But,  every  one 
must  say,  the  War ;  it  was  Washington  :  the  Country  ; 


3*76  ONE  world;   one  Washington. 

it  was  WasMngton :  Victory ;  it  was  Washington : 
Independence ;  it  was  Washington !  It  would  have 
been  a  task,  for  more  than  any  mortal,  to  wage  suc- 
cessful war,  between  a  Colonial  government,  in  every 
way,  distressed  and  destitute  :  and  a  vast  empire  ;  rich 
in  resources,  of  all  kinds  ;  "  a  man  of  war,  from  "  its 
"  youth ;  "  the  mistress  of  the  seas.  How  was  the  dif- 
ficulty increased,  w^hen  there  were  thirteen  govern- 
ments, to  be  reconciled ;  the  central  authority,  with  no 
power,  but  to  recommend ;  and  every  form  of  local  jeal- 
ousy, added  to  all  the  hindrances,  which  fallen  human 
nature  always  offers,  to  every  honoui'able  cause.  Yet, 
these  discordant  elements,  he  harmonized.  These  an- 
tagonistic forces,  he  reconciled.  These  prejudices,  these 
jealousies,  these  hostilities,  he  removed,  appeased,  and 
pacified.  He  was  the  Sun  of  the  whole  System :  about 
which,  all  revolved,  and,  by  which,  all  were  kept  to- 
gether. Is  it  not  true,  one  Universe ;  one  Sun  ?  It  is 
as  true,  "  one  World ;  one  Washington  ! " 

It  was  the  winter  of  1776.  The  very  gloomiest 
period  of  the  war.  The  British  had  possession  of 
Khode  Island,  Long  Island,  Staten  Island,  the  city  of 
New  York,  almost  all  the  Jerseys ;  and  were  threaten- 
ing Philadelphia.  The  army  was  weakened,  by  the 
discontent  of  the  soldiery ;  by  the  foolish  policy,  per- 
sisted in,  by  Congress,  of  short  enlistments ;  and  by 
sickness.  The  Continent  was  discontented.  The  Con- 
gress was  aroused.  It  met  the  case,  as  it  only  could  be 
met.  It  made  George  Washington,  Dictator.  More 
than  all  ai-mies,  in  that  confidence  :   and,  met,  so  mod- 


ONE    world;     one   WASHINGTON".  377 

estly ;  so  manfully.  It  is  Christmas  niglit.  The  Hes- 
sians are  encamped,  at  Trenton.  The  American  troops 
are  at  Taylorsville,  at  Bristol,  and  in  Philadelphia. 
The  weather  is  intensely  cold.  The  Delaware,  filled 
with  floating  ice,  rolls,  angrily,  between  them.  But, 
something  must  be  done.  A  night  attack,  by  crossing 
the  river,  in  three  columns,  is  planned.  The  Northern- 
most is  Washington's.  The  current  is  strong.  The 
wind  is  high.  The  night  is  dark.  It  storms.  What 
anxious  hours,  he  watched,  uj^on  the  Jersey  side,  while 
the  artillery  was  transported  !  The  attack  was  meant 
to  be,  at  midnight.  Four  precious  hours  are  lost.  The 
line  of  march  is  formed,  in  driving  sleet.  Two  men  are 
frozen  to  death.  They  have  nine  miles,  to  Trenton. 
They  are  there,  at  eight.  The  Hessians  are  sur23rised. 
They  rally.  But,  in  vain.  Their  General  falls.  One 
thousand  prisoners  are  taken.  The  two  lower  columns 
of  the  army  had  failed  to  cross.  It  was  the  victory  of 
Washington,  alone.  On  the  second  of  January,  the 
British  were,  at  Trenton,  in  great  force.  The  Assan- 
pink  divided  the  two  armies.  A  general  fight,  the 
next  day,  was  inevitable.  The  American  force  was  not 
sufficient,  to  sustain  it.  At  midnight,  while  the  camp- 
fires  burn,  to  lull  the  enemy,  they  are  off  to  Princeton. 
Three  regiments  are  there ;  to  join  Cornwallis,  the  next 
day,  at  Trenton.  They  are  attacked,  a  little  before  sun- 
rise, and  defeated.  One  hundred  killed.  Three  hun- 
dred prisoners.  In  every  hottest  portion  of  the  fight, 
Washington  is  present.  But,  no  bullet  had,  for  him,  a 
billet.     The  bravest  are  the  safest,  always.     God,  spe- 


378  ONE   WOELD  ;     ONIS.    WASHINGTON. 

cially,  takes  care  of  them.  These  actions  turned  the 
scale.  In  three  weeks,  New  Jersey  was  recovered.  The 
country  rallied.  And  liberty  took  heart.  "  Achieve- 
ments, so  astonishing,"  says  Botta,  an  Italian  writer, 
"  gained,  for  the  American  Commander,  a  very  great 
reputation  :  and  were  regarded,  with  wonder,  by  all  na- 
tions ;  as  well  as  by  the  Americans.  Every  one  ap- 
plauded the  prudence,  the  firmness,  and  the  daring,  of 
General  Washington.  All  declared  him  the  saviour  of 
his  country.  All  proclaimed  him,  equal  to  the  most 
renowned  commanders  of  antiquity  ;  and  especially  dis- 
tinguished him,  by  the  name  of  the  American  Fabius. 
His  name  was  in  the  mouths  of  all  men ;  and  celebrated 
by  the  pens  of  the  most  eminent  writers.  The  greatest 
personages  in  Europe  bestowed  upon  him  praise  and 
congratulations ! "  In  1781,  the  British  forces  were 
concentrated,  in  Virginia.  Cornwallis  establishes  him- 
self, at  Yorktown.  General  Washington,  with  the 
Count  de  Rochambeau,  hastens  to  the  scene.  In  that 
journey,  for  the  first  time,  in  six  years  and  a  half,  he 
visits  his  dear  Mount  Vernon.  Yorktown  is  invested. 
The  siege  is  pressed.  Cornwallis  surrenders.  Wash- 
ington is  victorious.  The  war  is  ended.  With  what 
delight,  he  takes  leave  of  the  army ;  tenders  his  com- 
mission ;  and  retires  to  private  life  !  "  At  length,"  he 
writes,  to  La  Fayette,  "  I  am  become  a  private  citizen, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac ;  and,  under  the  shadow  of 
my  own  vine  and  my  own  fig  tree,  free  from  the  bustle 
of  a  camp  and  the  busy  scenes  of  public  life,  I  am  sol- 
acing myself  with  those    tranquil   enjoyments."      "  I 


OITE   WOELD  :     ONE    WASHINGTON.  3*79 

have  not  only  retired  from  all  public  employments,  but 
I  am  retiring  witliin  myself;  and  stall  be  able  to  view 
the  solitary  walk,  and  tread  the  paths  of  private  life, 
with  a  heartfelt  satisfaction.  Envious  of  none,  I  am 
determined  to  be  pleased  with  all.  And,  this,  my  dear 
friend,  being  the  order  of  my  march,  I  will  move 
gently  down  the  stream  of  life,  until  I  sleep  with  my 
fathers."  But,  he  was  reckoning,  without  his  host. 
The  country,  although  free,  was  without  a  government. 
The  Confederation  was  a  rope  of  sand.  Now,  that  the 
pressure  of  war  was  removed  from  it,  it  was  crumbling. 
Something  must  be  done :  or  the  independence,  so 
dearly  bought,  was  lost.  A  Convention  of  delegates 
from  the  several  States,  assembled,  in  Philadelphia',  on 
the  fourteenth  of  May,  lYST.  General  Washington 
was,  unanimously,  elected  President.  It  continued,  in 
session,  four  months.  The  result  of  its  labours  was  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States.  The  foremost  hand, 
to  win  the  independence  of  the  nation,  was  the  fore- 
most hand,  to  frame  the  means,  for  its  perpetuity.  But, 
one  more  honour,  now,  remained.  The  Constitution 
provided  for  a  President.  And  George  "Washington 
was,  unanimously,  elected;  President  of  the  United 
States.  He  had  refused  to  be  a  candidate,  for  that  high 
office,  as  long  as  duty  would  permit.  And,  when  he 
started,  to  encounter  its  responsibilities,  it  was  with  a 
sad  and  a  heavy  heart.  "  About  ten  o'clock,"  he  says, 
in  his  diary,  for  April  16, 1Y89,  "  I  bade  adieu  to  Mount 
Vernon,  to  private  life,  and  to  domestic  felicity ;  and, 
with  a  mind,  oppressed  with  more  anxious   and  painful 


380  0]srE  woELD ;    one  Washington. 

sensations,  tlian  I  liave  words  to  express,  set  out  for 
New  York :  with  tlie  best  disj^osition  to  render  service 
to  my  country,  in  obedience  to  its  call ;  but,  witli  less 
hope  of  answering  its  expectations."  By  a  beautiful  act 
of  piety,  he  premised  his  entrance,  on  the  highest  office 
in  the  world,  by  a  visit  to  his  venerable  mother :  then, 
eighty-two  ;  and  in  the  last  year  of  her  life.  The  Con- 
queror, the  Statesman,  the  President,  were  melted,  in 
the  son :  in  the  pressure  of  those  loving  hands ;  and  un- 
der the  warmth  of  that  fond  kiss.* 

It  was  the  30th  day  of  April,  1789.  in  all  the 
churches  in  New  York,  there  had  been  prayers,  at  nine 
o'clock.  The  blessing  of  God,  on  the  new  government, 
was'  solemnly  invoked.  It  was,  now,  noon.  The 
streets  were  all  alive.  The  stream  of  life  was  rushing; 
towards  the  Federal  Hall.  All  eyes  are  fixed,  uj^on  the 
balcony.  At  the  moment,  he  appears.  Tall,  serene, 
majestic.  His  plain  brown  suit  was  of  the  manufacture 
of  his  country.  The  sword,  of  so  much  glory,  was  by 
his  side :  shall  I  not  say.  The  sword  of  the  Lord,  and 
of  Washington  ?  The  welkin  rings,  with  one  wide 
shout.  He  lays  his  hand  upon  his  heart ;  bows  to  the 
people ;  and,  then,  sinks,  exhausted,  into  a  chair.  The 
fearless  soldier  of  the  Monongahela,  is  a  woman,  in  that 
presence.    Then,  only,  is  our  nature  perfected,  when  the 

*  Writing,  to  his  sister,  on  tlie  occasion  of  their  mother's  death,  in  August,  of 
the  same  year,  he  said  :  "  Awful  and  affecting  as  the  death  of  a  parent  is,  there 
is  consolation,  in  knowing  that  Heaven  has  spared  ours  to  an  age,  beyond  which 
few  attain  ;  and  favoured  her  with  the  full  enjoyment  of  her  mental  faculties,  and 
as  much  bodily  strength  as  usually  falls  to  the  lot  of  fourscore.  Under  these  con- 
siderations, and  a  hope  that  she  is  translated  to  a  happier  place  :  it  is  the  duty  of 
her  relatives  to  yield  due  submission,  to  the  decrees  of  the  Creator." 


ONE    WORLD  ;     OKE   WASHINGTOIST,  381 

strong  man  is  blended,  in  it,  with  tlie  loving  woman. 
He  rises.  He  advances,  to  the  front.  He  is  sur- 
rounded, by  the  chief  officers  of  State.  The  Chancellor 
administers  the  oath.  The  hand  of  Washington  is  on 
the  Bible  ;  which  the  Secretary  holds.  He  would  have 
raised  the  sacred  volume  to  his  lips.  The  President 
bows,  lowly  and  reverently ;  and  kisses  it.  Then,  for 
the  avalanche  of  voices.  Then,  for  the  roar  of  cannon. 
Then,  for  the  clanging  of  the  bells.  He  bows,  again. 
He  retires  to  the  Senate  Chamber ;  and  delivers  his  in- 
augural address.  And,  then,  he  goes,  on  foot ;  with  the 
whole  assembly,  to  St.  Paul's  Chapel :  where,  prayers 
are  said,  by  the  Bishop  of  New  York.  The  Virginia 
Colonel,  who  knelt,  in  that  ^vild  camp,  at  the  Great 
Meadows,  at  twenty-two,  among  the  soldiers  and  the 
Indians,  kneels,  now,  at  fifty-seven,  the  President  of  the 
United  States.  How  sure,  how  beautiful,  hoAv  blessed, 
are  the  returns  of  prayer !  Of  the  services,  which  he 
rendered,  in  his  double  administration — constrained  to 
the  second,  even  more  reluctantly  than  to  the  first  * — 

*  "  The  confidence  of  the  whole  Union,"  wrote  Jefferson,  then.  Secretary  of 
State,  "  is  centred  in  you.  Your  being  at  the  helm  is  more  than  an  answer  to 
every  argument,  which  can  be  used,  to  alarm  and  lead  the  people,  on  any  ques- 
tion, into  violence  or  surprise.  North  and  South  will  hang  together,  if  they  have 
you  to  hang  on."  "  I  am  perfectly  aware  of  the  oppression,  under  which  your 
present  office  lays  your  mind  ;  and  of  the  ardour  with  which  you  pant  for  domestic 
life.  But,  there  is  sometimes  an  eminence  of  character,  on  which  society  have 
such  pecuHar  claims,  as  to  control  the  predilection  of  the  individual  for  a  peculiar 
walk  of  happiness ;  and  to  restrain  him  to  that  alone,  arising  from  the  present 
and  future  benedictions  of  mankind.  This  seems  to  be  your  condition,  and  the 
law  imposed  on  you  by  Providence,  in  forming  your  character,  and  fashioning  the 
events  in  which  it  was  to  operate ;  and  it  is  to  motives  like  these,  and  not  to  per- 
sonal anxieties  of  mine  or  others,  who  have  no  right  to  call  on  you  for  sacrifices, 
that  I  appeal  from  your  former  determination,  and  urge  a  revisal  of  it,  on  the 
ground  of  changes  in  the  aspect  of  things !  "    Hamilton,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury, 


382  ONE    WORLD  ;     ONE   WASHINGTON. 

liow  his  wisdom,  justice,  patriotism,  as  Governor,  dis- 
tilled, in  blessings,  on  the  land,  which,  as  warrior,  he 
had  saved  ;  I  need  not  tell  you  now.  Are  they  not  leg- 
ible, from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  in  the  prosperity 
and  progress  of  the  country  ?  Do  they  not  smile,  in 
fields  ?  Are  they  not  vocal,  in  shops  ?  Do  they  not 
tower,  in  spires  ?  Do  they  not  exult,  in  dancing  ships ; 
wherever  ocean  sends  its  waves  ?  Are  they  not  felt,  in 
the  hearts ;  shall  they  not  be  heard,  from  the  tongues, 
of  thii'ty  millions  of  free  men  ?  Out  of  that  chaos, 
"  without  form,  and  void,"  he  was  enabled,  by  God's 
grace,  to  bring  this  new  and  beautiful  creation.  For 
the  logs  of  that  old  raft,  the  Confederation,  scarcely 
kept  together,  by  green  withes,  he  launched,  and  set 
before  the  wind,  manned  with  brave  men,  the  star-flag 
floating  from  the  mast-head,  that  glorious  ship  of  the 
line,  the  Constitutional  Republic  :  in  which,  we  and 
ours,  to  the  remotest  generation,  are  embarked — God 
help  us  ! — ^for  our  weal,  or  for  our  woe. 

"  Thou,  too,  sail  on,  O  ship  of  state ! 
Sail  on,  O  Union,  strong  and  great ! 
Humanity,  with  all  its  fears, 
With  all  the  hopes  of  future  years, 

was  equally  decided.  "  It  is  clear,  that  if  you  continue  in  office,  nothing  mate- 
rially mischievous  is  to  be  apprehended ;  if  you  yield,  much  is  to  be  dreaded : 
that  the  same  motives  which  induced  you  to  accept  originally,  ought  to  decide  you 
to  continue  till  matters  have  assumed  a  more  determinate  aspect."  "  I  trust,  and 
pray  God,  that  you  will  determine  to  make  a  further  sacrifice  of  your  tranquillity 
and  happiness,  to  the  public  good."  Randolph,  the  Attorney-General,  wrote, 
with  the  same  urgency.  "  The  Constitution  would  never  have  been  adopted,  but 
from  a  knowledge  that  you  had  once  sanctioned  it,  and  an  expectation  that  you 
would  execute  it.  It  is  in  a  state  of  probation.  The  most  unauspicious  struggles 
are  past.  But  the  public  deliberations  need  stability.  You  alone  can  give  them 
stability." 


ONE   WORLD  ;     ONE   WASHINGTON.  383 

Is  hanging,  breathless,  on  thy  fate. 
We  know  what  Master  laid  thy  keel ; 
What  workman  wrought  thy  ribs  of  steel ; 
Who  made  each  mast  and  sail  and  rope ; 
What  anvils  rang,  what  hammers  beat : 
In  what  a  forge,  and  what  a  heat, 
Were  shaped,  the  anchors  of  thy  hope. 
Fear  not  each  sudden  sound  and  shock  j 
'Tis  of  the  wave,  and  not  the  rock  : 
'Tis  but  the  flapping  of  the  sail ; 
And  not  a  rent  made  by  the  gale ! 
In  spite  of  rock,  and  tempest's  roar, 
In  spite  of  false  lights,  on  the  shore ; 
Sail  on  :  nor  fear  to  breast  the  sea, 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  are  all  with  thee. 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears, 
Our  faith,  triumphant  o'er  our  fears, 
Are  all  with  thee,  are  all  with  thee." 

Washington  was  sixty-five  years  old,  wlien  lie  re- 
turned, from  his  eight  years'  administration,  to  the 
shades  of  Mount  Vernon.  Not  without  leaving,  to  the 
nation,  the  most  precious  legacy,  short  of  inspired  wis- 
dom, in  his  inimitable  "  Farewell  Address."  And  it  is 
delightful  to  see,  how  he  came  back,  with  the  keenest 
relish,  to  the  tastes  and  occupations  of  his  earlier  man- 
hood. To  a  friend,  he  writes,  a  few  weeks  after  his  ar- 
rival, that  his  daily  course  began  with  the  rising  of  the 
sun  ;  when  he,  first,  made  preparations,  for  the  business 
of  the  day.  "  By  the  time  I  have  accomplished  these 
matters,  breakfast  is  ready.  This  being  over,  I  mount 
my  horse,  and  ride  round  my  farms :  which  employs  me 
till  it  is  time  to  dress  for  dinner.     At  which,  I  rarely 


384  ONE    WORLD  ;     ONE   WASHINGTON. 

miss  to  see  strange  faces ;  come,  as  they  say,  out  of  re- 
spect to  me."  "  The  usual  time  of  sitting  at  table,  a 
walk,  and  tea,  bring  me  within  the  dawn  of  candle- 
light." "  I  then,  retire  to  my  writing-table  ;  and  ac- 
knowledge the  letters  which  I  have  received.  Having 
given  you  this  history  of  a  day,  it  will  do  for  a  year." 
In  this  sweet,  natural  way,  it  was  his  happiness  to  live. 
He  was  the  friend  and  adviser  of  the  neighbourhood. 
He  was  the  Vestryman  of  two  Churches.  He  was  the 
zealous  promoter  of  every  form  of  internal  improve- 
ment.* He  was  devoted,  heart  and  hand,  to  educa- 
tion.f  He  was  the  most  intelligent  and  enterprising 
agriculturist.  But,  his  chief  delight  was  in  his  orchards 
and  his  gardens  ;  with  his  trees  and  shrubbery.  Lay- 
ing out  the  walks,  on  his  lawn ;  intermingling  forest 
trees,  evergreens  and  flowers ;  stocking  his  conservatories 
and  green-houses  :  with  pruning  hook,  in  hand,  all  day. 
Even,  here,  he  was  pursued,  by  greatness.  A  war  with 
France  was  thi*eatened.     Ten  thousand  men  were  or- 


*  In  July,  1*783,10  head-quarters,  at  New  York,  while  waiting  for  the  definitive 
treaty,  he  beguiled  the  time,  and  gratified  a  long  cherished  desire,  by  making  a 
tour  into  Northern  and  Western  New  York.  In  a  letter  to  the  Chevalier  de  Chas- 
tellux,  written  from  Princeton,  after  his  return,  he  clearly  advocated  that  great 
plan  of  internal  improvements,  by  canal  navigation,  which  has  immortalized  the 
name  of  De  Witt  Clinton  ;  and  given  such  wealth  and  power  to  the  State,  which 
he  adorned. 

\  He  had  earnestly  recommended  plans  for  internal  navigation,  in  Virginia  ; 
which  had  proved  very  successful.  The  Potomac  Company,  and  the  James  River 
Company  complimented  him  with  a  gift  of  fifty  shares,  by  the  former,  and  one  hun- 
dred by  the  latter.  He  positively  refused  to  receive  them.  Afterwards,  he  con- 
sented to  receive  them,  as  a  trust,  for  beneficial  objects  ;  and  gave  them  for  the 
purposes  of  education  :  one  hundred  shares,  to  Washington  College  ;  and  one  hun- 
dred shares,  for  an  University  in  the  District  of  Columbia.  The  plan  of  a  National 
University  was  very  near  his  heart.  In  short,  he  was  a  zealous  advocate  for 
schools,  and  literary  undertakings,  of  every  kind. 


ONE  WOELD ;    oine  Washington.  385 

dered,  as  a  provisional  army.  He,  alone,  was  thouglit 
of,  as  Commander-in-cliief.  The  language  of  President 
Adams,  to  Mm,  in  a  letter,  is :  "  We  must  have  your 
name,  if  you  will  permit  us  to  use  it.  There  will  be 
more  efficacy  in  it,  than  in  many  an  army."  And  there 
was.  The  French  government  abated  their  insolence. 
Overtures  of  peace  were  made,  by  them.  The  army 
never  took  the  field.  But,  there  is  a  Conqueror  of  all 
Conquerors.  On  Thursday,  12th  December,  1*799,  he 
was  exposed,  in  a  storm  of  rain  and  sleet ;  whilst  re- 
turning, on  horseback,  from  his  farms.  A  sore  throat 
and  hoarseness  ensued.  He  neglected  it.  The  next 
night,  he  had  an  ague.  The  severest  form  of  quinsy 
set  in.  On  the  night  of  Saturday,  December  14th,  he 
breathed  his  last.  Calm,  composed,  resigned.  As  beau- 
tiful, in  the  fortitude  and  resignation  of  his  death ;  as  he 
had  been,  in  the  fortitude  and  resignation  of  his  life. 

I  need  not  specify  the  virtues  of  George  Washing- 
ton. His  life  was  radiant  "with  them.  As  a  lady  said, 
to  me,  the  other  day,  "  his  greatness  was  in  his  good- 
ness." Unselfishness,  integrity,  simplicity,  sincerity,  in- 
corruptible faith,  indomitable  courage,  unbounded  gene- 
rosity :  these  are  a  handful,  only,  of  the  fidl  and  golden 
sheaf  Hear,  how  he  wiites,  from  his  head-quarters,  at 
Cambridge,  to  his  agent ;  managing  his  vast  estates, 
throughout  his  absence  of  six  years,  by  correspondence. 
"  Let  the  hospitality  of  the  house,  with  respect  to  the 
poor,  be  kept  up.  Let  no  one  go  hungry,  away."  Nor 
was  he  one  of  those,  who  think  themselves  quite  good 

VOL.  IV. 25 


386  ONE   WOELD  ;     ONE   WASHINGTON. 

enougli  without  religion.     A  piece  of  verses,  on  Clirist- 
mas  Day,  wTitten  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  begins  : 

"  Assist  me,  muse  divine,  to  sing  the  morn, 
On  which,  the  Saviour  of  mankind  was  born." 

In  the  absence  of  another,  he  was,  from  his  first 
service,  the  Chaplain  of  his  troops ;  and  gathered  them, 
for  daily  prayers.  Vicious  habits  and  profane  swearing 
among  the  troops,  were  strictly  forbidden,  and  severely 
punished.  "When  the  House  of  Burgesses,  of  which  he 
was  a  member,  set  apart  the  first  day  of  June,  17  74, 
as  a  day  of  fasting,  humiliation  and  prayer,  to  implore 
the  Divine  interposition,  against  the  calamities,  threat- 
ened by  the  act  of  Parliament,  in  shutting  up  the  port 
of  Boston,  the  entry,  in  his  Diary,  is ;  "  Went  to  Church : 
and  fasted  all  day."  He  was  most  liberal,  in  his  main- 
tenance of  the  Church.  WTiether  in  private,  or  in 
public  life,  he  Avas  a  constant  worshipper.  His  Secre- 
tary, had  seen  him,  more  than  once,  kneeling,  in  private 
devotions,  at  morning  and  evening,  in  his  library,  with 
his  Bible  open,  before  him.  He  was  a  devout  commu- 
nicant. But  had  he  no  faults  ?  Did  he  not  die  ? 
Would  he  have  died,  if  he  had  had  no  sin  ?  Let  them, 
that  have  none,  cast  a  stone,  at  him !  Was  there  no 
discord  in  these  notes  of  universal  praise  ?  Yes  :  even 
Washington  had  revilers.*    Infidels,  Pharisees,  Jacobins, 

*  How  little  he  regarded  them !  "  I  have  long  since  resolved,"  said  he, 
writing  to  the  Governor  of  Maryland,  "  for  the  present  time,  at  least,  to  let  my 
calumniators  proceed,  without  any  notice  being  taken  of  their  invectives,  by  my- 
self or  by  any  others,  with  my  participation  or  knowledge.  Their  views,  I  dare 
say,  are  readily  perceived,  by  the  enlightened  and  well  disposed  part  of  the  com- 
munity ;  and  by  the  records  of  my  administration,  and  not  by  the  voice  of  faction, 
I  expect  to  be  acquitted  or  condemned,  hereafter." 


ONE   world;     one   WASHINGTON.  387 

Misanthropes.  Thomas  Paine,  Callender,  Citizen  Genet. 
The  men,  whose  blame  is  praise :  whose  censui'e  is 
applause ;  whose  condemnation  is  immortal  glory. 
Mr.  Jefferson,  not  partial,  in  his  favour,  wrote,  of  him, 
"  His  integrity  was  most  pure ;  his  justice,  the  most 
inflexible,  I  have  ever  known :  no  motives  of  interest 
or  consanguinity,  of  friendship  or  of  hatred,  being  able 
to  bias  his  decision."  *  He  was,  indeed,  in  every  sense 
of  the  word,  a  wise,f  a  good,  and  a  great  man.     Mi'. 

*  "  No  part  of  the  President's  duties,"  says  Sparks,  in  his  admirable  Life,  "  gave 
him  more  anxiety  than  that  of  distributing  the  offices,  in  his  gift."  "  He  early 
prescribed  to  himself,  however,  a  rule,  from  which  he  never  swerved  ;  which  was, 
to  give  no  pledges  or  encouragement,  to  any  applicant.  He  answered  them  all, 
civilly.  But,  avowed  his  determination  to  suspend  a  decision,  till  the  time  of 
making  the  appointment  should  arrive ;  and  then,  without  favour,  or  bias,  to  select 
such  individuals,  as,  in  his  judgment,  were  best  quaUfied  to  execute,  with  faithful- 
ness and  ability,  the  trust  reposed,  in  them.  '  From  the  moment,'  he  writes,  to  a 
friend,  '  when  the  necessity  had  become  apparent,  and,  as  it  were,  inevitable,  I 
anticipated,  with  a  heart  filled  with  distress,  the  ten  thousand  embarrassments, 
perplexities,  troubles,  to  which  I  must  again  be  exposed,  in  the  evening  of  a  life, 
already  nearly  consumed  in  public  cares.  Among  all  these  anxieties,  I  will  not 
conceal  from  you,  I  anticipated  none  greater  than  those  that  were  likely  to  be 
produced  by  applications  for  appointments  to  the  different  offices,  which  would  be 
created,  under  the  new  government.  Nor  will  I  conceal  that  ray  apprehensions 
have  already  been  but  too  well  justified.  Should  it  be  my  lot,  again,  to  go  into 
office,  I  would  go  without  being  under  any  possible  engagements,  of  any  nature 
whatsoever.'  '  So  far  as  I  know  my  own  heart,  I  would  not  be  in  the  remotest 
degree,  influenced  in  making  nominations,  by  motives  arising  from  the  ties  of 
family  or  blood.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  three  things,  in  my  opinion,  ought 
principally  to  be  regarded  :  namely,  the  fitness  of  character  to  all  offices ;  the 
comparative  claims,  from  the  former  merits  and  sufferings  in  service  of  the  differ- 
ent candidates  ;  and  the  distribution  of  appointments,  in  as  equal  a  proportion  as 
might  be,  to  persons  belonging  to  the  different  States  in  the  Union.' " 

f  A  single  sample  of  his  fieart-wisdom  must  not  be  withheld.  His  kinsman 
and  agent,  Lund  Washington,  had  intimated  the  probability,  that  Mrs.  Custis  was 
about  to  enter  into  a  second  marriage.  She  had  given  him  no  hint  of  her  inten- 
tion. "  For  my  own  part,"  he  writes,  from  Rocky  Hill,  near  Princeton,  20th  Sep- 
tember, 1783,  "  I  never  did,  nor  do  I  believe  I  ever  shall,  give  advice  to  a  worajin, 
who  is  setting  out  on  a  matrimonial  voyage.  First,  because  I  never  could  advise 
one  to  marry,  without  her  own  consent ;  and,  secondly,  because  I  know  it  is  to  no 
purpose  to  advise  her  to  refrain,  when  she  has  obtained  it.  A  woman  very  rarely 
asks  an  opinion,  or  requires  advice,  on  such  an  occasion,  till  her  resolution  is 


388  Ol^TE   WOELD  ;     ONE    WASHINGTON. 

Fox  said  of  liim  in  the  Britisli  Parliament,  "  Illus- 
trious man,  deriving  honour  less  from  the  sj)lendour  of 
his  situation,  than  the  dignity  of  his  mind.  For  him, 
it  has  been  reserved,  to  run  the  race  of  glory,  without 
experiencing  the  smallest  interruption,  to  the  brilliancy 
of  his  course."  Lord  Erskine  Avi'ote  to  him,  in  1*795, 
"  Sir,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  to  introduce  your  august 
and  venerated  name,  in  a  short  sentence  ;  which  will  be 
found  in  the  book  I  send  you.  I  have  a  large  acquaint- 
tance,  amons;  the  most  valuable  and  exalted  classes  of 
men.  But  you  are  the  only  human  being,  for  w^hom,  I 
ever  felt  an  awful  reverence.  I  sincerely  pray  God,  to 
grant  a  long  and  serene  evening,  to  a  life,  so  gloriously 
devoted,  to  the  universal  happiness  of  the  world." 
Chief  Justice  Marshall,  in  announcing  his  death,  in 
the  House  of  Representatives,  said,  "  Our  Washington 
is  no  more.  The  hero,  the  patriot  and  the  sage,  of 
America ;  the  man,  on  whom,  in  times  of  danger,  every 
eye  was  turned,  and  all  hopes  were  placed,  lives,  now, 
only  in  his  great  actions ;  and  in  the  hearts  of  an  affec- 
tionate and  an  afflicted  people."  "  More  than  any 
other  individual,  and  as  much  as,  to  one  individual,  was 
possible,  has  he  contributed  to  found  this,  our  wide- 
spreading,  empire ;  and  to  give  to  the  Western  world 
independence  and  freedom."  But,  the  noblest  eulogy, 
that  was  ever  uttered,  and  in  the  very  fewest  words, 

formed.  And,  then,  it  is  with  the  hope  of  obtaining  a  sanction,  not  that  she 
means  to  be  governed  by  your  disapprobation,  that  she  applies.  In  a  word,  the 
plain  English  of  the  apphcation  may  be  summed  up,  in  these  words  :  '  I  wish  you 
to  think  as  I  do ;  but  if,  unhappily,  you  differ  from  me  in  opinion,  my  mind,  I 
must  confess,  is  fixed,  and  I  have  gone  too  far,  now  to  retreat." 


ONE    WOELD  ;     ONE   WASHINGTON.  389 

was  the  third  of  the  resolutions,  offered  by  Chief  Justice 
Marshall,  ajid  drawn  up  by  General  Henry  Lee  :  "  Re- 
solved, that  a  Committee  be  appointed  to  consider,  on 
the  most  suitable  manner,  of  paying  honour  to  the 
memory  of  the  man  ;  first,  in  war,  first,  in  peace,  and 
first  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen." 

And,  now,  is  not  my  case  made  out  ?  Can  any 
Plutarch  find  a  parallel,  for  him  ?  Will  any  bird,  of 
any  kind,  take  up  the  challenge  of  our  eagle,  "  One 
"World,  one  Washington  ?  "  If  it  be  so,  and  if  nations 
be  trustees  for  the  names  of  their  great  men,  what  a 
trust,  my  fellow  citizens,  is  ours  !  How  should  his  name 
be  embalmed,  in  all  our  hearts  !  How  should  his  name 
be  a  household  word,  on  the  lips  of  all  our  childi'en  ! 
How  should  his  name  be  inscribed  on  every  poll ;  to  fix 
the  eye,  and  fill  the  heart,  of  every  voter !  How,  should 
his  name  pervade  our  halls  of  Legislatui^e  ;  pervade  om' 
public  offices ;  pervade  the  Presidential  mansion ;  per- 
vade the  august  and  glorious  Capitol !  How  it  should 
rebuke  selfishness !  How  it  should  rebuke  unfaith- 
fulness !  How  it  should  rebuke  corruption  !  How  it 
shoidd  vindicate  the  truth ;  and  elevate  the  law ;  and 
justify  the  government ;  and  glorify  the  nation  !  Beau- 
tiful it  is,  that  the  Metropolis  of  the  great  American 
confederacy,  of  which  he  was  founder,  bears  his  immor- 
tal name.  Tender  and  touching,  it  is,  that  that  serene, 
majestic,  face,  goes  everywhere,  from  every  hand,  to 
every  heart ;  the  passjiort  of  affection,  in  every  house, 
through  every  land.*     Let  there  be  one  more  testimo- 

*  How  I  felt  this,  with  every  letter,  that  came  to  me,  abroad ! 


390  ONE  world;   one  Washington. 

nial,  tlie  most  affecting,  the  most  impressive,  of  tliem 
all.  When  Nelson,  on  tlie  eve  of  triumph,  flung,  fi'om 
the  mast-head,  that  immortal  signal,  "Westminster 
Abbey,  or  Victory  !  "  he  appealed  to  the  deep  sanctities 
of  every  heart.  Let  our  Westminster  be  Mount  Ver- 
non !  Let  the  home  of  Washington  be  their  home- 
stead, who  are  his  only  children.  Let  the  tomb  of 
Washington  be  the  shrine  of  patriotism,  forever ;  and, 
let  his  sacred  ashes  forever  rest,  by  the  sweet  gliding 
of  his  own  Potomac ;  cherished  by  the  hearts,  and 
guarded  by  the  hands,  of  increasing  millions  of  free- 
men. 

"  Should  the  tempest  of  war  overshadow  our  land, 

Its  bolts  could  ne'er  rend  Freedom's  temple  asunder  : 
For,  unmoved,  at  its  portal,  would  Washmgton  stand ; 
And  repulse  with  his  breast,  the  assaults  of  the  thunder. 
His  sword  from  the  sleep 
Of  its  scabbard,  would  leap  ; 
And  conduct,  with  its  point,  every  flash,  to  the  deep. 
For,  ne'er  shall  the  sons  of  Columbia  be  slaves, 
While  the  earth  bears  a  plant,  or  the  sea  rolls  its  waves." 

Mes.  Van  Kensselaer  ; 

Lady  Managers  of  the  Mount  Vernon  Associa- 
tion, IN  Burlington  ; 
Mr.  Mayor  ; 

My  Fellow  Citizens  ; 
You  have  listened  to  me,  patiently,  too  long.  A  few 
words,  more.  The  ashes  of  Washington  should  not  be- 
long to  any  individual.  They  are  the  jewehy  of  the 
Republic.  JEn  mea  ornamenta  !  The  tomb  of  Wash- 
ington should  not  be  in  possession  of  the  government. 


ONE  WORLD  ;  ONE  WASHINGTON.         391 

He  was  not  tlie  father  of  the  Senate,  nor  of  the  House 
of  Representatives.  He  was  Pater  Patrice.  He  is  oui* 
father.  The  home  of  Washington  should  not  be  held 
by  any  special  corporation.  It  is  the  homestead  of  the 
nation.  It  is  the  hearthstone  of  America.  It  should 
belong  to  us,  and  to  our  heirs,  forever.  But,  how  shall 
this  be  brought  about  ?  Who  will  redeem  that  sacred 
dust  ?  Who  will  garnish  that  beloved  sepulchre  ? 
Who  will  keep  up  that  hospitable  home  ?  These 
women  and  their  associates:  the  mothers  of  our  chil- 
dren ;  the  sisters  of  our  love ;  the  daughters  of  our 
hearts.  Beautiful  thought,  that  the  sex,  to  which  we 
owe  our  mothers,  should  be  the  guardians  of  the  ashes 
of  our  father.  That  the  women  of  America,  should 
more  than  reproduce  the  Roman  daughter,  in  her  filial 
piety  and  love.  And,  they  loill  do  it.  Nay,  liave  done 
it ;  by  the  very  will,  to  do  it.  When  did  a  women  ever 
fail,  in  what  her  love  resolved  on  ?  Who  were  behind 
her,  at  the  Cross  ?  Who  were  before  her,  at  the  grave  ? 
JSToble  and  generous  women !  Into  your  hands,  we 
commit  those  venerable  shades.  Into  your  hands,  we 
commit  that  honourable  sepulchre.  Into  your  hands, 
we  commit  that  blessed  dust.  To  you,  and  to  your 
daughters,  and  to  your  daughters'  daughters,  in  a  line, 
forever.  Thither,  the  mothers  of  America,  in  all  the 
ages  of  the  world,  shall  bring  their  infant  sons.  They 
shall  tell  them,  "  our  mothers  left  us  this  dear  home ;  a 
heritage,  for  ever ! "  They  shall  repeat  his  story. 
They  shall  relate  his  services.  They  shall  recount  his 
virtues.      They  shall  syllable  his  glorious  and  immortal 


392  ONE  woELD  ;   on-e  wASKcsraTON. 

name.  The  eye  shall  kindle,  at  the  sound.  The  lip 
shall  quiver  at  the  thought.  The  heart  shall  leap,  at 
the  remembrance.  And,  from  that  sepulchre,  there 
shall  go  out,  a  line  of  patriot-heroes ;  that  shall  pei^et- 
uate  the  virtues,  while  they  immortalize  the  name,  of 
Washing^ton.  Shades  of  our  fathers,  mothers  of  our 
children,  shall  it  not  be  so  ?  By  those,  at  Trenton, 
Princeton,  Monmouth,  it  shall  be  !  May  He,  who  gave 
us  Washington,  make  us  all  worthy  of  the  gift ;  pre- 
serve his  sepulchre,  a  light-house  for  the  oppressed,  in 
every  land ;  and  make  his  name  the  lode-star  of  the 
patriot,  till  time  shall  cease  to  be  ! 


I. 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD  TO  BE  STUDIED  WITH 
HIS  WORKS. 

*  THE  INTRODUCTORY  LECTURE  BEFORE  THE  BURLINGTON  LYCEUM. 

Neighbours  and  Feieitos— I  feel  that  I  can  say 
to-niglit,  witli  tlie  Apostle  Paul,  "  I  am  a  citizen  of  no 
mean  city."  Tlie  erection  of  ttis  building,  for  tlie  pur- 
poses to  wMcli  it  is  appropriated,  does  honour  to  tWs 
community ;  and  I  feel  most  sensibly  tlie  higli  distinc- 
tion, of  giving  utterance  first,  to  tlie  purposes  of  your 
enlarged  and  wise  benevolence.  Long  may  tlie  foun- 
tain you  have  opened  here  pour  forth  perennial  streams ! 
May  you  and  yours,  and  they  that  shall  come  after  you, 
di'ink  here,  and  be  refreshed  !  May  the  pure  wave  of 
science,  forever  sparkling  as  it  springs,  tempt  to  these 
quiet  seats,  youth's  eager  eye,  the  restless  foot  of  man- 
hood, and  the  serene  repose  of  meditative  age  !  Never 
may  vice  corrupt,  never  may  passion  disturb,  never  may 
prejudice  embitter  one  drop  of  its  clear  waters  !  And 
may  the  noble  thirst  for  knowledge,  not  quenched,  but 
kindled  more  by  drinking  here,  urge  to  new  efforts  in 

*  December  18,  A.  D.  1838. 


394  THE    WOED    OF    GOD 

the  liigli  pursuit ;  and  never  cease  its  longings,  till  tlie 
river  sliall  be  reached,  wliicli  flows  for  ever  from  the 
throne  of  God ! 

Members  of  the  Burlington  Lyceum,  it  is  with  pride 
and  pleasure,  beyond  the  ordinary  power  of  language, 
that  I  introduce  you  to  your  own.    This  liouse  is  yours ! 
Yours,  by  the  generous  bounty  and  sacred  confidence 
of  an  intelligent  community.     See  that  that  confidence 
never   is   betrayed.      See   tliat   that   bounty  never   is 
abused.     You  hold  this  property  in  trust,  for  noble 
purposes.     From  the  first  movement  in  which  this  en- 
terprise originated,  through  all  the  stages  of  its  prog- 
ress, the  object  ever  had  in  view,  has  been  the  same — 
to  promote  the  social,  intellectual,  and  moral  improve- 
ment of  this  community,  and  especially  of  the  young. 
Your  entrance  upon  these  premises,  is  your  acceptance 
of  that  trust.     Henceforward,  you  are  responsible  to 
this  community  for  its  faithful,  constant,  diligent  dis- 
charge.    It  is  a  high  responsibility.     It  is  a  holy  enter- 
prise.    You  are  to  seek  an  entrance  through  the  mind, 
for  the  improvement  of  the  heart.    You  are  to  do  this — 
as  it  only  can  be  done — as  Christian  men,  on  Christian 
principles,  and  from  Christian  motives ;  for  the  comfort 
of  man  and  the  glory  of  God.     Hear  the  preamble  to 
your  Constitution.     "  As  intelligent  and  moral  beings, 
we  owe  to  God  our  Creator,  the  best  improvement  in  our 
power,  of  the  abilities  and  opportunities  which  He  has 
conferred  upon  us  individually.    As  social  beings,  we 
owe  to  each  other  faithful  endeavours  for  mutual  com- 
fort, elevation  and  excellence.     In  view  of  these  first 


TO    BE   STUDIED    WITH   HIS    WORKS.  395 

principles  of  our  intelligent,  moral  and  social  nature, 
and  most  especially  of  that  accountableness  to  God,  for 
all  we  are  and  have,  which  the  Gospel  so  clearly  reveals, 
and  so  powerfully  enforces  upon  all  who  enjoy  its  blessed 
light,  the  undersigned,  desiring  to  promote  the  glory  of 
God,  by  increasing  among  such  of  their  followers  as  their 
influence  can  reach,  the  knowledge  of  His  works,  and 
the  reception  of  His  will,  hereby  associate  themselves." 
This  is  high  ground  it  may  be  said.  And  so  it  is,  and 
such  it  was  designed  to  be.  They  that  would  look 
out,  broadly,  on  the  world,  or  scan  the  page  of  the  clear 
heavens,  and  rightly  read  its  radiant  signatures,  must 
stand  upon  high  ground.  This  is  strong  ground,  it  may 
be  said.  And  so  it  is,  and  such  it  was  designed  to  be. 
They  that  would  move  great  masses,  and  uplift  great 
weights,  must  stand  upon  strong  ground.  Thus  sta- 
tioned, we  occupy,  as  it  were,  the  table-land  of  our 
whole  region  ;  with  height  enough  for  observation,  and 
yet  with  room  enough  for  ease  of  movement  and  sta- 
bility of  posture.  We  have  the  where-to-stand,* 
which  if  the  old  philosopher  of  Syracuse  could  only 
get,  he  pledged  himself  to  move  the  universe.  But 
though  the  where-to-stand  is  of  the  first  importance 
in  mechanics,  it  is  not  all  that  we  have  need  of  To 
heave  the  block  of  granite  from  its  bed,  and  lift  it  to 
its  destined  place  upon  the  lofty  battlement,  there  must 
be  wheels,  and  levers,  and  a  motive  power.  And  so,  to 
stir  the  sluggish  human  mass,  and  rear  from  living 
stones,  the  living  temple  for  the  living  Lord,  the  en- 

*  The  famous  postulate  of  Archimedes  :  Sos  irov  (Ttoj,  Kai  rov  Koa-fj-ov  Kivnacc. 


396  THE   WORD    OF   GOD 

gineiy  of  mind  must  be  employed ;  and  moral  power, 
under  the  blessing  of  the  Holiest,  supj)ly  the  required 
momentum.  Man  is  not  what  he  was,  is  not  what  he 
may  be,  is  not  what  he  should  be.  Such  is  the  lesson 
of  Holy  Scripture.  Such  is  the  admission  of  our  expe- 
rience. Such  is  the  concession  in  which  this  Institution 
has  its  origin.  He  is  corrupt,  and  must  be  reclaimed. 
He  is  ignorant,  and  must  be  taught.  He  is  weak,  and 
must  be  strengthened.  He  is  perverse,  and  must  be 
persuaded.  He  errs,  and  must  be  guided.  He  stum- 
bles, and  must  be  supported.  He  grovels,  and  must  be 
elevated.  He  falls,  and  must  be  lifted  up.  To  do  this 
— I  speak  not  now  of  the  parental,  or  of  the  direct  re- 
ligious influence,  but  of  that  to  which,  by  the  terms  of 
the  Constitution  which  you  have  subscribed,  you  are 
all  bound — to  do  this,  you  must  attract  the  young,  the 
careless,  the  uninstructed,  the  unexperienced,  yet  satisfy 
the  thoughtful  and  mature.  There  must  be  milk  for 
babes  provided,  and  strong  meat  for  strong  men.  You 
are  surrounded  by  ten  thousand  rival  magnets,  cun- 
ningly adjusted  to  our  unfixed  and  tremulous  nature, 
and  plied  with  desperate  ingenuity,  by  him  whose  name 
is  "  Legion  ;  "  and  you  must  prove  yourselves  "  not  ig- 
norant of  his  devices,"  and  see  that  your  attraction, 
through  the  omnipotence  of  truth,  shall  always  be  the 
strongest.  Most  difficult  of  all,  the  nature  that  is  in 
us,  fallen  from  its  first  estate,  still  gravitates  to  evil ; 
and  the  problem  is,  to  resist  its  downward  tendencies, 
and  to  restore  and  to  maintain  the  equilibrium  of  vir- 
tue.    It  is  the  noblest  office  to  which  moral  beings  can 


TO    BE   STUDIED    WITH   HIS    WOEKS.  397 

be  summoned.  It  occupies,  day  witliout  niglit,  the  radi- 
ant hosts  which  come  from  heaven,  as  "  ministering  spir- 
its, sent  forth  to  minister  to  them  who  are  to  be  heirs 
of  salvation."  Engagement  in  it  is  partnership  with 
the  Divine  and  Holy  Spirit.  To  accomplish  it  in  what- 
ever degree,  to  strive  in  it,  even  to  long  for  it,  is  to  be 
"  workers  together  with  God."  Enlisted  in  a  cause  so 
glorious,  pledged  to  such  lofty  purposes,  sustained  by 
the  Almighty  power  of  heaven,  go  on,  as  you  have  now 
begun.  Let  this  house  ever  be  the  citadel  of  virtue  and 
of  truth.  Never  let  "  the  knowledge  which  causeth  to 
err,"  cast  its  devices  here.  Never  let  the  "  science,  falsely 
so  called,"  which  forsakes  the  hope  of  man,  and  con- 
founds the  principles  of  duty,  and  misleads  the  soul  from 
God,  sport  its  absurd  pretensions  in  this  place.  Never 
let  the  voice,  which  stirs  to  social  discord,  which  assails 
the  rights,  the  duties  or  the  courtesies  of  life,  which  ap- 
peals from  law  to  force,  which  insults  the  ear  of  woman, 
or  profanes  the  name  of  God,  be  heard  within  these 
walls.  Individual  purity,  domestic  peace,  social  order, 
national  prosperity,  universal  benevolence,  the  gloiy  of 
the  Creator — be  these  the  ends  at  which  we  aim.  The 
light  of  knowledge,  the  force  of  reason,  the  persuasive- 
ness of  truth,  the  sanctifying  graces  of  religion — ^these 
be  the  means  by  which  we  seek  them.  In  such  a  cause, 
if  it  were  possible  to  fail,  even  failure  would  be  more 
glorious  than  success  in  any  other.  But  it  is  not  possi- 
ble. To  fight  for  tmth  and  virtue,  is  to  fight  with  God 
upon  our  side.  Omnipotence  goes  with  us,  and  victory 
dwells  upon  our  banner. 


398  THE   WORD    OF    GOD 

Fellow-citizens,  we  make  you  welcome  to  our  hall. 
We  offer  it,  with  our  best  services,  for  your  acceptance. 
Our  single  aim  is  your  advantage.  The  sufficient  re- 
ward for  our  most  zealous  efforts  will  be  your  approval. 
To  entertainment  and  instruction,  such  as  we  can  fur- 
nish, we  cordially  invite  you.  What  we  can  do,  shall 
certainly  be  done  for  your  gratification  and  improve- 
ment. But,  remember,  you,  too,  have  your  part  to 
perform.  We  must  ask  you  to  bring  willing  ears,  at- 
tentive minds,  forbearing  hearts.  We  must  bespeak 
your  patience  with  our  failures,  your  condescension  to 
our  infirmities.  We  shall  rely  on  your  protection  from 
disturbance,  on  your  determined  co-operation  mth  us 
in  maintaining  order  and  decorum.  We  must  ask  one 
thing  more  of  you — ^that  you  will  not  expect  too  much 
from  us,  or  our  performances.  Lectures  are  not  trea- 
tises, but  summaries  of  knowledge.  The  lecturer  23re- 
sents  you  with  a  map  of  some  rich  province  or  extended 
empire  in  the  world  of  science.  If  you  would  master 
its  details,  and  enrich  yourself  with  its  resources,  and 
delight  your  eye  with  its  fair  prospects,  you  must  tra- 
verse it  yourself  It  has  long  since  been  said,  "  there  is 
no  royal " — and  it  is  as  certainly  true,  there  is  no  re- 
publican— "  road  to  knowledge."  Sound  learning  can 
be  acquired  in  but  one  way,  by  diligent  and  patient 
study.  He  that  would  win  the  muse,  must  woo  her 
with  a  lover's  ardour,  and  a  lover's  perseverance.  If, 
by  the  glimpses  of  her  charms  that  we  may  give,  we 
can  inflame  your  love — if  we  can  tempt  you,  even  for 
now  and  then  a  brief  and  stolen  moment,  from  the 


TO    BE   STUDIED    WITH   HIS    WOEKS.  399 

carking  cares  and  low  indulgences  of  eartli,  to  gaze  on 
her  fair  beauty,  and  hold  converse  witli  lier  serene  and 
heavenly  purity — our  labour  will  not  be  in  vain.  We 
shall  trust  that  you  will  go  from  the  audience  of  the 
lecturer  to  the  examination  of  the  subject  for  yourself. 
We  shall  rejoice  to  believe,  that,  so  far  from  satisfying, 
our  labours  do  but  whet  your  appetite  for  knowledge. 
We  shall  expect  that  the  topics  here  discussed  will  give 
elevation  to  your  thoughts,  and  interest  to  yom'  conver- 
sation. We  shall  be  over23aid  for  all  that  we  can  do, 
if  we  may  but  hope  that  we  have  enlarged  the  sphere 
of  your  domestic  pleasures,  by  introducing  to  your  ac- 
quaintance one  author,  who  has  contributed  to  lend 
confidence  to  vii'tue  and  dignity  to  truth ;  by  tempting 
you  to  lay  one  good  book  upon  your  shelves  which  was 
not  there  before ;  by  opening  to  the  curious  eye,  even 
of  your  youngest  child,  though  it  were  but  through  the 
texture  of  a  leaf,  or  the  tinting  of  a  shell,  another  inlet 
into  the  rare  workmanship  of  that  mysterious  universe, 
which  teems  with  such  continual  demonstration  of  an 
ever-present  God. 

It  certainly  is  so.  The  curious  workmanship  of  this 
mysterious  universe  is  demonstrative  of  an  Almighty, 
ever-present  God.  "  The  invisible  things  of  Him,  from 
the  creation  of  the  world,"  says  the  Apostle  Paul,  "  are 
clearly  seen,  being  understood  by  the  things  that  are 
made,  even  His  eternal  power  and  Godhead."  It  cer- 
tainly is  so.  That  there  is  a  God,  the  great  First  Cause 
of  all,  even  a  child  may  argue,  from  the  observation  of 
His  work.     But  by  what  process  of  deduction,  I  be- 


400  THE   WOED    OF    GOD 

seecli  you,  can  the  most  acute  pliilosoplier,  untauglit  of 
God,  deduce  the  knowledge  of  His  ways  ?  "  The  heav- 
ens," Lord  Bacon  well  remarks,  "  declare  the  glory  of 
God  ;  but  it  is  nowhere  said,  the  heavens  declare  His 
will."  The  laws  of  His  moral  government :  the  wor- 
ship which  He  requires :  His  dealings  with  mankind,  as 
good  or  evil ;  whether  there  be  a  future ;  and,  if  there 
be,  how  it  is  influenced  by  our  conduct  here — these, 
and  the  thousand  kindred  topics  of  deepest  interest  to 
man,  considered  as  a  moral,  and  still  more  as  an  immor- 
tal being,  gain  no  illumination  from  what  some  have 
called  "  the  light  of  nature  " — have  never  been  decided, 
and  could  never  be  decided,  by  the  unassisted  powers 
of  human  reason.  "  I  know  not  how  it  is,"  says  Cicero, 
speaking  of  the  works  of  Plato,  who  of  all  the  old  phi- 
losophers came  nearest  to  divine — "  I  know  not  how  it 
is,  as  long  as  I  am  reading,  I  give  my  fall  assent :  but 
when  I  have  laid  aside  the  book,  and  begin  to  reflect 
within  myself  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  that 
whole  conviction  vanishes.*  And  there  are  other  diffi- 
culties, as  great  and  as  perplexing.  Who  can  discover 
how  it  is  that  the  foreknowledge  of  God  interferes  not 
with  the  free  agency  of  man  ?  Who  can  comprehend 
that  mysterious  power  of  God,  which  no  magnitude  can 
distance,  which  no  minuteness  can  escape,  which  no  in- 
tricacy can  distract ;  which  at  the  same  moment  directs 
the  complicated  motions  of  innumerable  worlds ;  which 
guides  every  planet  in  its  course  through  the  free  paths 

*  "  Nescio  quomodo,  dum  lego  assentior ;  cum  posui  librum,  et  mecum  ipse 
de  immortalitate  animorum  csepi  cogitare,  assentio  omuis  ilia  elabitur." — Cicero, 
Tusc,  QucBs.  I.  §  11. 


TO    BE   STUDIED    WITH   HIS   WOEKS.  401 

of  infinite  space  ;  and  gives  existence  to  tlie  smallest  of 
tlie  living  tilings  by  wliicli  they  are  inliabited  ?  When 
we  attempt  to  conceive  of  such  a  Being,  to  discover 
what  His  will  is  in  regard  to  us,  to  adjust  with  cer- 
tainty the  relation  which  we  hold  to  Him,  we  are  com- 
pelled to  say  with  Job, — "  Lo,  these  are  parts  of  His 
ways ;  how  little  a  portion  is  heard  of  Him ! "  We  feel 
that  the  knowledge  which  we  can  thus  attain  to,  can 
never  satisfy  the  soul.  We  feel  that  He  who  is  re- 
vealed to  us  only  by  His  works,  is  still,  as  regards  all 
moral  and  religious  uses,  all  present  duty  and  all  future 
hope,  to  all  practical  intents  and  purposes,  an  "  un- 
known God."  And  precisely  at  this  point  it  is,  where 
the  torch  of  human  reason  ceases  to  direct  our  footsteps, 
that  the  Word  of  God,  shines  forth,  a  lamp  unto  our 
feet  and  a  light  unto  our  path.  "  Thy  creatures,"  says 
the  great  Lord  Bacon,  "  have  been  my  books,  but  Thy 
Scriptures  still  more.  I  have  sought  Thee  in  the 
courts,  in  the  fields  and  in  the  gardens,  but  in  Thy  tem- 
ples I  have  found  Thee." 

The  divine  revelation  thus  mercifully  given,  for  the 
relief  of  human  weakness,  supplies  precisely  what  we 
want.  The  creatures  of  God,  lead  us  to  Him.  The 
Scriptures  of  God,  inform  us  what  He  is.  His  works 
convince  us  of  His  wisdom,  power  and  goodness.  His 
Word  instructs  us  what  that  wisdom,  power  and  good- 
ness have  ordained  concerning  us.  It  displays  to  us  as 
much  of  the  divine  counsels  as  it  is  necessary  for  us 
here  to  know.     It  solves,  upon  divine  authority,  all 

doubtful  questions,  whether  of  present  duty,  or  of  future 
VOL.  IV. — 26 


402  THE   WOED    OF   GOD 

destiny.  Wliile  it  admonislies  us  of  our  ignorance  and 
weakness,  it  discloses  to  us  abundant  stores  of  divine 
instruction,  and  of  heavenly  strength.  It  proposes 
means  of  grace  adequate  to  all  present  emergencies ;  and 
it  discloses  hopes  of  future  glory,  such  as  eye  hath  not 
seen,  nor  ear  heard,  nor  heart  ever  could  conceive  of. 

Having  thus  a  revelation  made  to  us,  so  precisely 
fitted  to  all  our  wants  and  all  our  weaknesses,  how 
great  should  be  our  thankfulness  to  Him,  from  whom 
the  blessing  comes !  How  anxious  should  we  be  to 
make  it,  what  it  is  so  admirably  designed  to  be,  the  in- 
structor of  our  hearts  and  the  director  of  our  lives. 
How  constantly,  how  carefully,  how  zealously,  should 
we  search  the  Scriptures.  "The  Bible,"  says  John 
Quincy  Adams,  whose  simple  name  is  praise,  "  is  the 
book  of  all  others,  to  be  read  at  all  ages,  and  in  all  con- 
ditions of  human  life ;  not  to  be  read  once,  or  twice,  or 
thrice  through,  and  then  laid  aside  ;  but  to  be  read  in 
small  portions  of  one  or  two  chapters,  every  day,  and 
never  to  be  intermitted  but  by  some  overruling  ne- 
cessity.* 

There  is  no  place,  my  friends,  there  is  no  presence, 
there  is  no  occasion  where  this  unquestionable  duty 
may  not  properly  be  ui^ged.  The  study  of  the  Word  of 
God  should  never  be  dissevered  from  the  study  of  His 
works.  We  scan  the  material  bodies  which  surround 
us,  we  trace  from  link  to  link  the  chain  of  principles 
which  bind  them  all  together,  and  we  rise  to  the  con- 
sideration of  their  great  First  Cause.     We  look  upon 

Letter  to  a  Cominittee  of  the  Franklin  Association,  Baltimore. 


TO    BE   STUDIED    WITH   HIS    WORKS.  403 

the  face  of  the  fail*  heavens,  we  gaze  upon  the  radiant 
orbs  which  wheel  in  solemn  silence  through  the  azure 
vault ;  we  trace  through  their  vast  orbits  their  magnifi- 
cent career ;  and  we  acknowledge  that  "  the  heavens  de- 
clare the  glory  of  God,  and  that  the  firmament  showeth 
His  handiwork."  Now,  the  danger  is,  that  we  may  rest 
in  this ;  that  conscious  of  the  being  and  power  of  God, 
our  understandings  may  be  satisfied,  and  yet  our  hearts 
uninfluenced ;  that  we  may  stop  at  the  conclusions  of 
mere  human  science,  and  neglect  that  knowledge  which 
alone  can  make  us  "  mse  unto  salvation."  As  matter  of 
mere  philosophy,  this  were  unworthy  of  us.  The  beau- 
tiful arrangement  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  which  human 
science  has  demonstrated,  must  lead  the  mind  to  con- 
sider the  wisdom  which  conceived  and  the  power 
which  executed  such  a  fabric.  But  to  the  Christian, 
how  much  more  touching  the  reflection,  that  the  same 
God  who  orders  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  is 
the  source  of  "  life  and  breath  and  all  things ; "  that  the 
hand  which  binds  the  "  sweet  influences  of  Pleiades," 
and  looses  the  "  bands  of  Orion,"  directs  the  feet  of 
them  who  trust  in  Him,  through  the  perplexing  paths 
of  life ;  that  the  Almighty  Being,  who  called  this  fair 
creation  all  from  nothing,  and  sustains  it  by  His  will, 
is  about  our  path,  and  about  our  bed,  and  spies  out  all 
our  ways ;  that  when  stars  and  suns  have  fallen,  from 
their  places,  there  will  yet  remain,  for  those  who  love 
and  fear  Him,  "  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal 
in  the  heavens." 

The  Bui'lington  Lyceum  had  its  origin  in  the  benevo- 


404  THE   WOED    OF    GOD 

lent  desire  to  promote  the  interests  of  the  Apprentices' 
Library.  The  elevation  of  the  character  of  the  young 
men  of  this  community  has  been,  and  will  continue  to 
be,  a  leading  object  of  its  care.  It  will  seek  to  do  so, 
by  calling  them  from  low  pursuits,  and  indulgences 
that  "  perish  in  the  using,"  and  associations  that  de- 
grade the  character  and  defile  the  soul,  to  the  pm^e 
pleasures  of  science,  to  the  elevating  occupations  of  in- 
tellect, to  the  ennobling  study  of  the  works  of  God.  It 
will  be  all  in  vain,  if  they  add  not  to  these,  the  faithful, 
diligent,  conscientious  study  of  His  word.  "Where- 
withal," says  Eoyal  David,  "  shall  a  young  man  cleanse 
his  way  ?  Even  by  taking  heed  thereto,  according  to 
Thy  word."  Young  men  of  Bm-lington,  these  are  right 
words,  and  words  of  heavenly  wisdom,  I  pray  you 
write  them  on  your  hearts.  They  will  sustain  you  in 
the  evil  hour.  They  will  console  you  when  all  human 
sympathy  shall  fail.  The  memory  of  them  will  remain, 
amono;  the  hoarded  treasures  of  the  better  world.  I 
present  for  your  instruction,  and  I  would  that  it  might  be 
for  your  imitation,  a  beautiful  picture  of  youthful  piety, 
lending  to  science,  such  as  age  not  often  compasses,  its 
highest  consecration.  The  visible  transit  of  the  planet 
Venus  over  the  sun's  disk  is  a  phenomenon  of  rare  oc- 
currence. It  is  of  so  gi-eat  importance  in  astronomical 
computations,  that  on  two  occasions  *  the  governments 
of  Europe  sent  out  expensive  expeditions  to  distant  re- 
gions, for  the  purpose  of  observing  it.  The  transit  of 
this  planet  was  observed,  for  the  first  time,  in  1639,  by 

*  In  1*761  and  1769  ;  by  England,  France,  Russia  and  Denmark. 


TO    BE   STUDIED    WITH   HIS    WORKS.  405 

Jeremiali  Horrox,  a  young  man,  not  yet  twenty-one 
years  of  age,  in  a  remote  village  of  England.  With 
very  little  instruction,  and  almost  without  the  help  of 
books,  or  instruments,  he  calculated  its  appearance 
with  very  great  exactness.  Himself  and  a  single  friend 
were  the  only  observers  of  it.  Judge  with  what  solici- 
tude he  had  arranged  his  humble  preparations !  Judge 
with  what  intense  anxiety  his  ardent  mind  anticipated 
its  approach !  On  the  day  before  the  transit  was  ex- 
pected, he  began  to  observe,  and  he  resumed  his  la- 
bours on  the  morrow.  But  the  very  hour,  when  his  cal- 
culations authorized  him  to  expect  the  visible  apjoearance 
of  the  planet  upon  the  sun's  disk,  was  the  hour  of  the 
public  worship  of  Almighty  God,  on  His  holy  day. 
The  delay  of  a  few  moments  might  deprive  him  of  the 
observation.  If  its  commencement  were  not  noticed, 
clouds  mio-ht  intervene.  The  sun  was  about  to  set. 
An  hundred  and  fifty  years  must  elapse  before  another 
opportunity  would  occm\  Notwithstanding  all  this, 
Horrox  twice  suspended  his  operations,  and  twice  re- 
paired to  the  house  of  God.*  The  phenomenon  was 
much  to  him  ;  but  the  divine  Author  was  infinitely 
more.  When  his  duty  was  thus  paid,  and  he  returned 
to  his  chamber  the  second  time,  his  love  of  science  was 
gratified  with  full  success.      His  eyes  were  the  first 


*  His  own  modest  statement,  in  his  diary,  is  in  these  words,  at  the  date  of 
Sunday,  24th  November,  1639.  "  Observavi  enim  die  xxiv.,  solis  ex  ortu  ad 
horam  usque  uonam,  item  paulo  ante  decimam  ipsoque  demum  meridic  et  hora ; 
pomcridiana  ad  ii. ;  aliis  temporibus  ad  m?jora  avocatus,  qua;  utiquc  ob  ha;c 
parerga  negHgi  non  dccuit." — See  Chevalier's  Hulscan  Lectures,  to  which  the  au- 
thor is  much  indebted. 


406    THE  WOED  OF  GOD  TO  BE  STUDIED  WITH  HIS  WOEKS. 

which  ever  witnessed  the  appearance  which  his  skill 
predicted.  "Who  shall  doubt  that  the  splendour  of  the 
celestial  j^ageant  was  enhanced,  a  thousand  fold,  to  his 
clear  vision,  by  the  pious  satisfaction  of  his  heart  ? 
Who  shall  doubt  that  the  service  and  the  glory  of  "  the 
Father  of  all  lights  "  were  dearer  to  him,  in  the  trying 
hour,  than  all  the  honours  with  which  science  could 
have  crowned  his  youthful  brow  ?  Horrox  was  taken 
from  the  world  soon  after.  It  was  a  saying  of  the  an- 
cients, "  They  whom  th*e  Gods  love,  die  fii^st."  Who 
would  exchange  the  early  death-bed  of  this  pious 
youth,  for  all  that  could  be  lavished  on  the  longest  life, 
passed  "  without  God,  and  without  hope  ! "  To  what 
transcendent  visions,  outshining  all  the  light  of  stars 
and  suns  and  systems,  may  his  admiring  eyes  be 
opened,  in  that  world  beyond  the  vail ! — "  And  the 
city  had  no  need  of  the  sun,  neither  of  the  moon  to 
shine  in  it ;  for  the  glory  of  God  did  lighten  it,  and  the 
Lamb  is  the  light  thereof" 


n. 

THE  DIFFUSION  OF  USEFUL  KNOWLEDGE. 

*  the  introductory  lecture  before  the  mechanics'  library 
association  of  burlington. 

Me.  Mayor,  Mejibees  of  the  Associatton",  Neigh- 
bours AND  Friends  :  It  brings  tlie  old  times  back,  to 
stand,  before  you,  here.  It  seems  but  yesterday,  that  I  ad- 
dressed you,  at  the  opening  of  this  House.  By  almanac, 
I  am,  now,  older,  thirteen  years.  But,  not  "  a  jot "  in 
"  heart,  or  hope."  And  I  am,  here,  to-night,  to  offer,  to 
your  service,  as  strong  an  ann,  as  true  a  heart,  as  clear  a 
head — albeit,  the  snows  have  drifted  on  it — as  when  I 
came  to  you,  now,  almost  twenty  years  ago :  and  had  not 
ventured  living,  life,  and  more,  to  serve  the  Church,  the 
country,  and  yourselves,  in  God's  own  Avork,  of  Chris- 
tian Education.  The  work,  thank  God,  goes  on.  The 
man,  thank  God,  is  here.  And,  so  it  please  Him,  will 
be  here ;  to  bend  to  it  his  hands,  his  head,  his  heart,  till 
it  shall  gloriously  redeem  more  than  was  ever  hoped : 
and  vindicate,  for  you,  your  children,  and  your  chil- 
dren's children,  till  the  last  of  them  is  born,  in  those 

*  December  3,  A.  D.  1851. 


408  THE   DIFFUSION    OF   USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE. 

twin  seats  of  learning  and  religion,  wliicli  make  your 
own  majestic  Delaware,  a  classic  and  a  sacred  stream, 
the  trutH  and  fitness  of  the  first  words,  that  were  ever 
uttered  in  this  House,  "I  am  a  citizen  of  no  mean 
city  !  "*  Neighboui"S  and  friends,  I  am  right  happy  to 
be,  here. 

And  I  am  most  happy  to  be  here,  at  the  instance  of 
the  Mechanics'  Library  and  Reading  Room  Association, 
of  the  City  of  Bui'lington.  This  voice  of  mine,  such  as 
it  is,  has  been  uplifted  in  a  multitude  of  places,  in  both 
hemispheres.  Within  the  borders  of  my  own  New 
Jersey,  and  beyond  the  immediate  ckcle  of  my  sacred 
calling  and  my  academic  office,  I  have  been  honoured, 
as  their  Orator,  by  your  own  Common  Council,  by  the 
Historical  Society  of  our  State,  and  by  the  Venerable 
Order  of  the  Cincinnati.  But,  I  never  answered,  as 
your  President  f  will  tell  you,  with  a  fuller  or  a  promp- 
ter voice,  than  when  he  ashed  me,  if  I  would  deliver 
the  Opening  Lectui-e,  before  the  Mechanics' — which,  as 
more  truly  English,  I  shall  call,  to-night,  the  Working 
Men's — Library  and  Reading  Room  Association  of  this 
City.  I  am  a  working  man,  myself.  Find  me  a  man, 
among  you,  that  works  more  hours,  in  every  day,  than 
I  do,  and  sleeps  fewer ;  and  I  will  bind  myself,  seven 
years,  to  him,  as  his  apprentice.  And,  if  any  one  that 
could  purport  to  be  my  son,  were  not  to  be  a  working 


*  The  Burlington  Lyceum  was  opened,  December  18,  1838.  The  Address 
began — "  Neighbours  and  Friends,  I  can  say,  to-night,  with  the  Apostle  Paul,  '  I 
am  a  citizen  of  no  mean  city.' "  The  building  has  since  been  purchased,  by  the 
City,  for  a  Town  Hall ;  and  much  enlarged  and  improved. 

f  The  Mayor  of  the  City,  James  W.  Wall,  Esq.,  is  President  of  the  Association. 


THE   DIFFFSIOlSr    OF    USEFUL    KNOWLEDGE.  409 

man,  I  should  deny  his  claim.  The  working  men  of 
Burlington.  The  working  men  of  New  Jersey.  The 
working  men  of  the  world.  Why,  theirs  is  the  earliest, 
the  only  real,  order  of  nobility.  Who  can  go  higher  up, 
than  Adam,  for  his  pedigree  ?  And,  what  do  we  know 
of  Adam,  before  the  Fall,  but  that  he  was  a  working 
man  ;  and  had  a  wife  ?  "  And  the  Lord  God  took  the 
man ;  and  put  him  into  the  garden  of  Eden,  to  dress  it, 
and  to  keep  it."  "  And  the  Lord  God  said.  It  is  not  good 
that  the  man  should  be  alone:  I  will  make  him  an 
help,  meet  for  him."  I  am  most  happy  to  be,  here  :  a 
working  man ;  to  speak  to  working  men,  and  to  their 
wives. 

The  stated  object  of  the  Association,  by  which 
these  Lectures  were  projected,  is  the  diffusion  of  useful 
Jcnowledge.  The  more  immediate  means,  the  establish- 
ment of  a  Lihrm^y  and  Reading  Room.  I  shall  S23eak, 
briefly,  of  the  means ;  and,  then,  more  fully  of  the 
object. 

I.  Libraries,  for  the  learned,  are  of  remote  antiquity. 
It  is  the  glory  of  our  times,  to  have  provided  Libraries, 
for  Working  Men,  for  Clerks,  for  Apprentices,  for  Sun- 
day School  children.  The  intellectual  results  of  this 
provision  are  its  least  recommendation.  It  powerftilly 
subserves  sound  morals  and  true  religion.  In  a  country, 
where  the  means  of  living  are  within  easy  reach  of  all, 
who  are  industrious  and  frugal,  there  will  be  time,  on 
hand  ;  for  use,  or  for  abuse.  There  is  nothing,  to  meet 
this  case,  and  tm^n  it  to  advantage,  like  a  taste  for  read- 


410  THE   DIFFUSION   OF   USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE. 

iiicj-.  Next  to  tlie  institutions  of  religion,  and  tlie 
schools  of  various  grades  and  adaptations,  a  weU  selected 
and  well  regulated  Library  is  tlie  greatest  public  bless- 
in  o*.  Here,  where  tlie  issues  of  tlie  Press  compete,  in 
number,  mtb  tbe  leaves  upon  tbe  trees,  a  Reading  Room 
becomes  its  natural  appendage.  Wlio  can  appreciate  tbe 
hours,  that  may  be  thus  reclaimed,  from  the  accursed 
haunts  of  drunkenness  and  dissipation  ?  Who  can  begin 
to  measure  the  blessing,  to  society,  in  young  men,  won 
from  the  fatal  fascinations  which  beset  them ;  and 
guided  in  the  path  of  virtue,  honour,  and  religion  ? 
With  what  a  cheerful  light,  the  hearth  of  home  may  be 
invested ;  as  the  instructive  or  amusing  volume  holds  its 
happy  circle,  spell-bound,  by  the  beloved  voice,  that 
gives  it  utterance !  And,  how  the  children's  cheeks  will 
o-low,  and  their  eyes  glisten,  as  their  interest  increases, 
in  the  adventurous  traveller,  or  in  the  struggling  patriot ! 
You  have  done  well,  my  friends,  in  the  establishment  of 
a  Library  and  Reading  Room.  You  will  do  well,  to 
draw  to  it  the  interest  of  working  men.  Especially, 
you  will  do  well,  to  secure,  for  it,  the  attention  of  the 
young.  The  corners  of  your  streets  will  be  more  quiet, 
for  it.  It  will  be  seen,  in  the  increasing  comfort,  and 
good  order,  of  the  humble  homes,  that  lie  along  your 
paths.  It  will  be  marked,  in  your  young  men,  in  their 
intelligent  and  manly  bearing.  It  will  be  felt,  in  all 
the  pulses  of  your  social  life ;  in  peacefalness,  and  tran- 
quilness,  and  harmony,  and  happiness. 

II.  But    the    enterprise,  which   brings  us  here,  to- 


THE   DIFFUSION    OF    USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE.  411 

night,  contemplates,  generally,  tlie  diffusion  of  useful 
knowledge.  To  that,  I  shall  devote,  what  I  have  yet 
to  say,  on  this  occasion.  I  am  its  universal  and  un- 
compromising advocate.  I  was  a  teacher  at  nineteen. 
And  I  have,  never,  since,  been,  not  a  teacher.  I  have 
dug  my  grave,  under  the  foundations  of  a  College. 
And,  whatever  may  remain,  to  me,  of  life,  was  long 
since  dedicated  to  the  sacred  cause  of  universal  educa- 
tion. I  cannot  be  suspected,  then,  of  any  sympathy, 
with  those  unnatural  systems,  called,  by  whatever 
name,  or  prompted  by  whatever  motive,  which  would 
withhold  the  w^ealth  of  knowledge  from  the  poor.  I 
know  no  caste,  for  learning,  or  for  liberty.  In  my 
religion,  "  there  is  neither  Greek  nor  Jew,  circumcision 
nor  uncircumcision,  Barbarian,  Scythian,  bond  nor  free : 
but  Christ  is  all,  and  in  all."  But,  while  I  recognize  no 
limit  to  the  diffusion  of  useful  knowledge  ;  but  would 
have  it  universal :  I  as  little  adopt  the  contracted  notion, 
of  what  is  useful  knowledge,  which  has  prevailed,  in 
England,  and  America.  I  deny,  that  useful  knowledge 
is  confined  to  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic.  I  deny, 
that  it  can  circumscribe  itself,  within  material  limits. 
It  is  as  vast,  as  the  universe.  It  is  as  illimitable,  as  the 
soul.     It  is  as  fathomless,  as  God. 

i.  Useful  hnowledge  is  as  vast,  as  the  universe.  Its 
range  is  wide  and  various,  as  the  world ;  which  w^e  call, 
nature.  No  product  of  the  earth,  no  motion  of  the  sea, 
no  aspect  of  the  sky,  that  is  not  comprehended,  in  it. 
It  was  truly  said,  by  a  wise  man,  of  other  years,  that  he, 
who  makes  two  blades  of  grass  grow,  where  but  one 


412  THE   DIFFUSION   OF   USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE. 

grew,  before,  is  a  great  public  benefactor.  What  must  it 
be,  to  reclaim  tlie  Pontine  marslies,  by  skilful  and  success- 
ful draining  !  Wliat  must  it  be,  to  convert  tlie  limestone 
rocks  of  Sussex,  into  a  liotbed,  for  the  wheat !  What 
must  it  be,  to  spread  the  antediluvian  marl,  as  the  top- 
dressing,  that  makes  old  Monmouth,  one  vast  field,  of  clo- 
ver and  of  corn  !  What  must  it  be,  that  brings  the  wine 
press,  from  the  Guadalquivir  and  the  Ehine,  to  our  own 
western  rivers ;  and  makes  the  slopes  of  the  Ohio,  vocal, 
with  their  song,  who  bring  the  vintage,  home  !  The 
diffusion  of  useful  knowledge,  in  the  single  province  of 
agi'icultural  improvement,  is  stultifying  the  unnatural 
theories  of  Malthus ;  is  opening,  in  this  western  hemis- 
phere, a  land  that  flows  Avith  milk  and  honey,  for  the 
starving  hordes  of  Ireland,  and  of  Germany  ;  and  more 
than  realizes  the  fondest  dreams  of  a  poetic  Eden.  Nor, 
is  the  land  its  single  element.  It  does,  what  Britain 
claims  to  do ;  and  "  rules  the  waves."  It  crawled,  at 
first,  Avith  timid  stealth,  along  the  shores  of  the  old  con- 
tinent :  and  held,  that  islands  were  the  outcasts  of  the 
earth.  It  felt  its  anxious  way,  with  "  the  world-seeking 
Genoese  ;  "  and  found,  at  last,  the  western  hemisphere, 
which  his  great  mind  had,  long  before,  demonstrated. 
It  has  made  the  Atlantic,  but  a  ferry,  for  its  steam-ships : 
and  brought  Liverpool,  as  near  New  York,  as  Albany 
was,  fifty  years,  ago.  And,  it  has  climbed  the  sky. 
With  Newton,  to  analyze  the  light.  With  Franklin,  to 
disarm  the  thunderbolt.  With  Morse,  to  make  the 
lightning  legible.  Nay,  while,  by  Newton's  piercing 
eye,  the  visible  fixed  stars  were  counted  at  three  thou- 


TILE   DIFFUSION    OF    USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE.  413 

sand ;  Herschell's  great  telescope  was  scarcely  turned, 
towards  tlie  heavens,  when  a  quarter  of  a  million  had 
crossed  its  field  of  vision,  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  And, 
so  completely  have  the  heavens  been  made  to  map  the 
sea,  that  the  mere  observation  of  the  moon's  apparent 
distance  from  a  star,  made,  with  an  instrument,  upon  a 
vessel's  deck,  shall  ascertain  within  five  miles,  the  very 
spot,  it  covers,  on  the  trackless  deep.  The  scurvy, 
which,  a  hundred  years  ago,  was  the  indomitable 
scourge  of  seamen,  slaying  its  thousands  every  year ;  by 
the  mere  use  of  lemon  juice,  is  so  entirely  banished,  that 
there  are  surgeons,  in  the  British  Navy,  who  have  never 
seen  it.  The  safety  lamp  has  made  the  lives  of  miners 
safe,  while '  they  pursue  their  dangerous  calling,  in  an 
atmosphere,  far  more  explosive,  than  gunpowder.  The 
life  boat  and  the  Drummond  light  combine,  to  strip  a 
lee-shore  of  its  terrors.  And,  even  the  miasmatic 
vapours,  which,  for  centuries,  made  the  Campagna,  a 
desolation,  are  shorn  of  their  destructive  fury,  by 
quinine.  While  the  magnetic  needle  makes  the  ocean 
track,  as  clear  and  certain,  in  the  darkest  night,  or  in 
the  fiercest  storm,  as  in  the  calmness  of  a  summer's  morn- 
ing :  the  diving  bell,  and  its  improvements,  for  sub- 
marine excursions,  have  made  its  coral  caves  accessible ; 
and  opened,  to  the  eye  of  man,  the  treasures  of  the  deep. 
The  bleaching  process,  which  required  whole  months, 
is,  now,  accomj)lished,  in  an  hour.  Iron,  in  bars,  is  slit ; 
like  ribbons,  by  a  milliner's  apprentice.  Four  pounds 
of  coal  yield  power  enough,  ^o  raise  a  traveller,  to  the 
summit  of  Mont   Blanc.     And,  if  the  greatest  of  the 


414  THE   DIFFUSION    OF    USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE. 

pyramids  of  Egypt,  with  its  base,  of  eleven  acres,  and 
its  height,  of  half  a  thousand  feet,  were,  now,  to  be 
erected,  the  coals,  which  are  consumed,  in  one  of  our 
steam-ships,  between  New  York  and  Liverpool,  would 
more  than  do  it."^'  '^^J,  eight  and  twenty  grains  of 
gunpowder,  in  an  ingenious  experiment,  by  om'  Ameri- 
can Count  Kumford,  were  made  to  exert  a  force,  to 
which  four  hundred  thousand  pounds  were  barely 
equal,  in  resistance. 

ii.  I  might  go  on,  forever,  with  these  illustrations. 
In  the  brief  time,  that  I  must  occupy,  in  stating  them, 
new  trophies  would  be  reared,  of  later  triumphs,  in  the 
track  of  science.  To  say,  of  useful  knowledge,  that  it 
is  vast  as  the  universe,  is  but  to  dwarf  its  stature,  and 
depreciate  its  capabilities.  It  is  illimitable  as  the  soul. 
It  must  be  so.  It  travels  with  the  soul.  It  takes  its 
measure  of  the  earth.  It  spans  its  orbit,  as  it  revolves 
about  the  sun.  It  dwells,  with  it,  in  the  fixed  stars ; 
whose  light,  in  almost  sixty  centuries,  has  not  yet  reached 
us.  It  starts,  mth  it,  upon  the  track  of  some  wild 
rover  of  the  universe,  whose  revolution  no  philosophy 
has  measured  ;  and  is  lost,  as  the  comet  seems  to  be,  in 
the  abysses  of  infinitude.  The  human  soul  is,  thus,  a 
grander  theme,  for  the  pursuits  of  useful  knowledge, 
than  the  universe,  which  it  takes  in.  And,  to  restrain 
its  office,  to  the  bounds  of  the  material  and  perishable, 
when  it  is,  itself,  the  attribute  of  the  spiritual  and  the 
immortal,  is  to  dwindle  its  immensity,  and  cripple  its 
resistlessness,  and  consign  it  to  a  prison-house,  to  grind. 

*  Herschell's  estimate  is  630  chaldrons. 


THE    DIFFUSION    OF   USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE.  415 

"  Tlie  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man."  The  useful 
knowledge,  for  humanity,  is  human  nature.  Well,  said 
the  poet,  of  the  precept,  "  Know  thyself,"  that  it  came 
down  from  heaven.  How  vast  the  field,  which  opens 
now  before  us.  The  universe  of  mind.  The  moral 
universe.  Whatever  man  has  suffered,  done,  or  been. 
Whatever  man  may  suffer,  do,  or  be.  The  records  of 
history.  The  investigations  of  philosophy.  The  crea- 
tions of  poetry.  Kings,  Conquerors,  Sages,  Sufferers, 
Saints.  The  antediluvian  Patriarchs.  The  millions, 
that  the  Deluge  overwashed.  The  multitudes,  that 
thronged  the  plains  of  Egypt.  The  army,  by  which 
Xerxes  wept.  The  crowds,  that  filled  the  Coliseum. 
The  hosts,  that  fell,  in  the  Crusades.  Napoleon's 
legions.  The  pale  student,  that  expired,  with  the  last 
flicker  of  his  lamp.  The  conqueror,  that  waded,  to  a 
throne,  through  blood.  The  patriots,  that  have  pined, 
in  dungeons.  The  martyrs,  that  have  bled,  on  scaffolds. 
The  Court.  The  Cloister.  The  Camp.  The  lower 
vales  of  human  life.  Patient  toil.  Struggling  poverty. 
Contented  competence.  Private  shades.  The  fireside 
virtues.  Homebred  happiness.  The  enduring  mother. 
The  wayward  youth.  The  guileless  child.  What 
themes,  for  thought !  What  studies,  for  contemplation  ! 
What  examples,  for  experience !  All  that  Belzoni 
found,  in  Egypt.  All  that  Layard  may  explore,  in 
Nineveh.  The  Parthenon.  The  Pantheon.  The  Venus. 
The  Apollo.  The  Dying  Gladiator.  Raj)hael. 
Michael  Angelo.  "  The  tale  of  Troy  di\^ne."  The 
Grecian  Drama.    The  Stage,  when  Shakspeare  peoj^led  it. 


416  THE   DIFFUSION    OF   USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE. 

What  mines,  for  memory  !  What  worlds  of  tliouglit ! 
"WJiat  tliick  coming  fancies  !  And,  tliese,  but  hints  of 
the  great  whole.  A  whole,  which  the  world  cannot 
confine.  Which  eternity  will  not  exhaust.  And,  then, 
its  practical  results  and  social  applications.  The  forms  of 
government.  The  institutions  of  society.  The  enact- 
ments of  law.  Education,  in  all  its  ranges.  The  uses  of 
philanthropy.  How  elevating  the  themes  !  How  enno- 
bling the  occupations  !  Relations,  as  old  as  the  world. 
Issues,  that  will  run,  new,  into  eternity.  Problems  of 
population.  Problems  of  colonization.  Problems,  in  ed- 
ucation. Problems,  in  crimes  and  punishments.  Com- 
mercial problems.  Financial  problems.  Moral  ques- 
tions. Political  questions.  Social  questions.  Questions, 
about  which  Socrates  queried ;  of  which,  Plato  has 
dreamed ;  upon  which,  Cicero  has  declaimed ;  which 
Burke  did  not  exhaust.  Relations,  abroad.  Interests  at 
home.  The  searchings  of  heart  in  England.  The  pause, 
before  the  spring,  in  France.  The  throes  and  heavings  of 
the  Continent  of  Em'ope.  The  dying  out,  of  everything, 
in  Asia.  The  glimmering  of  light,  on  Africa.  The 
trial  of  our  own  institutions :  in  the  interests,  that  are ; 
and  fi'om  the  interests,  that  are  to  be.  The  lurid  light, 
the  scudding  clouds,  the  dashing  of  the  waves,  the  rock- 
ing of  the  earth,  the  portents  in  the  air ;  which  tell  of 
some  great  moral,  social,  human,  change,  as  near  at 
hand  :  as  undefinable,  in  its  shape,  as  it  is  incalculable, 
in  its  results.  What  limit  to  the  range,  and  what 
arithmetic,  for  the  phenomena,  of  that  illimitable  moral 
universe,  the  human  soul,  even  in  its  temporal  issues 


THE   DIFFUSION    OF    USEFUL    KNOWLEDGE.  41*7 

and  relations  !  How  inadequate  tlie  longest  life,  to  its 
profound  investigations !  How  little  have  tlie  accumu- 
lated lives  of  Statesmen  and  of  Sages,  of  Philosophers 
and  Poets,  through  all  the  ages  of  the  world,  contrib- 
uted, to  the  solution  of  its  problems !  Is  not  the 
field  of  useful  knowledge,  even  in  these  interests  of 
man,  which  perish  in  the  using,  and  will  be  interred 
with  Time,  as  illimitable  as  the  soul  ? 

iii.  And  it  is  fathomless,  as  God.  Man  is  not  here, 
without  a  Maker.  The  moral  atmosphere  of  human 
life  is  Providence.  Souls  are,  but,  born,  on  earth. 
Being,  but,  begins,  in  time.  And  time,  itself,  is  but 
the  ripple  of  eternity,  upon  the  shore  of  life.  Nothing 
so  memorable,  in  all  the  marvellous  magnificence  of 
Newton's  master  mind,  as  this  memorial  of  his  matchless 
modesty :  "  I  do  not  know,  what  I  may  appear,  to  the 
world ;  but,  to  myself,  I  seem  to  have  been  only  like  a 
boy,  playing  on  the  sea-shore,  and  diverting  myself, 
in,  now  and  then  finding  a  smoother  pebble,  or  a  prettier 
shell,  than  ordinary :  whilst  the  great  ocean  of  truth 
lay,  all  undiscovered,  before  me."  And,  yet,  the  planets, 
of  whose  laws,  he  was  the  first  interpreter,  are  but  the 
pebbles ;  the  universe,  which,  upon  his  mind,  first 
mapped  itself,  in  its  serene,  majestic,  beauty,  is  but  the 
smooth,  sonorous,  shell,  beside  the  ocean  of  the  immeas- 
urable, unfathomable  Godhead !  If  we  were  holy  angels, 
we  should  stand,  in  silent  awe,  at  the  mere  thought  of 
such  a  God :  as,  in  that  old  prophetic  vision,  the 
seraphim  cover  their  faces,  with  their  mngs ;  this  crying, 

to  this,  and  saying,  "  Holy,  holy,  holy !  "     But,  when, 
VOL.  IV. — 27 


418  THE   DIFFUSION   OF   USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE. 

in  sickness,  or  in  sorrow,  tlie  sense  of  sin,  that  has  been 
stifled  into  stillness,  starts  into  life,  with  clamorous 
remorse ;  when  its  appalling  curse  is  seen,  in  graves 
that  open,  by  the  side  of  every  hearth ;  and,  when,  from 
every  land,  in  every  age,  the  wailing  of  its  prison-house 
is  heard,  from  smoking  temple,  and  by  reeking  altar,  in 
sorrow,  and  suffering,  and  sacrifice :  a  vague  and  vast 
domain  of  anxious  thoughtfulness  and  startling  horror, 
to  the  shuddering  soul,  as  boundless,  as  its  immortal 
essence,  and  as  fathomless,  as  God,  opens  itself,  before 
us.  And,  mere  philosophy  is  forced  to  own,  with 
Adam  Smith,  before  the  contact  of  the  leprous  Hume 
had  eaten  his  heart,  all  out,  "  Some  other  intercession, 
some  other  sacrifice,  some  other  atonement  must  be 
made,  for  man,  beyond  what  he  himself  is  capable  of 
making,  before  the  purity  of  the  divine  justice  can  be 
reconciled  to  his  manifest  offences.  The  doctrines  of 
Revelation,"  he  adds,  in  admii'able  words,  "  coincide,  in 
every  respect,  with  these  original  anticipations  of 
nature.  And,  as  they  teach  us,  how  little  we  can 
depend  upon  the  imperfection  of  om*  own  virtue ;  so 
they  show  us,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  most  power- 
ful intercession  has  been  made,  and  the  most  dreadful 
atonement  has  been  paid,  for  our  manifold  transgressions 
and  iniquities."  *  That  meek  and  holy  Man,  who  spent 
His  life,  in  doing  good ;  Whose  agonizing  death  dark- 
ened the  sun,  and  shook  the  earth,  and  roused  the 
dead ;  Whose  resurrection  and  ascension  declared  Him 
God,  and  certified,  from  Heaven,  to  the  sufficiency  of 

*  Theory  of  Moral  Sentiments ;  first  edition. 


THE   DIFFUSION    OF   USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE.  419 

His  atoning  sacrifice,  and  tlie  acceptance  of  His 
mediatorial  intercession ;  Whose  blessed  name  we  bear ; 
Whose  Gospel  is  our  guide  and  comforter,  in  life,  and 
our  assurance,  that  the  grave  is  not  its  end :  how  infinite 
the  themes,  which  He  has  opened,  for  our  thoughtfnl- 
ness  ;  how  inconceivable  their  value,  in  the  feeling,  that 
they  fill  the  heart,  while  they  transcend  the  intellect ; 
and  will  prepare  us,  if  our  hearts  receive  them,  for  the 
heaven,  of  which  they  give  the  sole  assurance,  and 
which  He  opened,  "  for  all  believers."  The  record  of 
Creation.  The  primal  dignity  of  man.  The  peace  and 
pmity  of  Paradise.  The  dire  destruction  of  the  Fall. 
Its  fearful  confirmation,  in  the  Flood.  The  patriarchal 
ages.  The  strange,  eventful  story  of  the  chosen  people. 
The  prophecies,  that,  ever  and  anon,  were  notched, 
upon  the  rock,  as  way-marks,  through  the  wilderness  of 
time.  Successive  empires,  sweeping,  in  their  sepulchral 
grandeur,  from  the  crowded  stage.  The  nurseling  of  a 
wolf,  rearing  a  kingdom,  to  absorb  them  all ;  and  bend 
the  subject  world  to  the  Augustan  throne :  that,  so, 
the  promise  of  an  universal  peace  might  be  fulfilled, 
when  the  Messiah  came.  A  meek  and  modest  maiden, 
of  the  royal  line  of  David,  led,  by  a  Koman  edict,  to  lay 
down  her  holy  burden,  which  prophets  had  predicted, 
and  an  angel  had  announced,  in  the  rude  manger  of  an 
inn,  in  David's  royal  town.  His  star-crowned  cradle 
the  cynosure  of  nations  and  the  shrine  of  Gentile  wise 
men.  His  life,  more  than  fulfilling  all  that  philosophers 
and  poets  had  yet  dreamed  of,  as  approachable,  in  man. 
The  blood,  that  flowed  down,  from  His  cross,  for  the 


420  THE   DIFFUSION"   OF   USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE. 

redemption  of  tlie  world ;  tlie  Hery  deluge,  that  destroyed 
tlie  nation,  that  had  denied  Him  ;  and  undermined  the 
empire,  that  had  crucified  Him.  The  heathen  temples 
crumbled,  at  His  coming ;  and  their  idols  marred,  and 
mutilated. 

"  The  oracles  are  dumb  : 
No  voice  or  hideous  hum 

Runs  through  the  arched  roof,  in  words  deceiving. 
Apollo,  from  his  shrinCj 
Can  no  more  divine. 

With  hollow  shriek,  the  steep  of  Delphos,  leaving. 

"  Peor  and  Baalim 
Forsake  their  temples  dim. 

With  that  twice-battered  God,  of  Palestine  ; 
And  mooned  Ashtaroth, 
Heaven's  queen  and  mother,  both, 

Now  sits  not,  girt  with  taper's  holy  shine. 

"  Nor  is  Osiris  seen, 
In  Memphian  grove,  or  green, 

Trampling  the  unshowered  grass,  with  lowings  loud  : 
Nor  can  he  be  at  rest, 
Within  his  sacred  chest ; 

Nought  but  profoundest  hell  can  be  his  shroud. 

"  He  feels,  from  Juda's  land, 
The  dreaded  Infant's  hand  ; 

The  rays  of  Bethlehem  blind  his  dusky  eyne  : 
Nor  all  the  Gods,  beside, 
Longer  dare  abide ; 

Not  Typhon  huge,  ending  in  snaky  twine  : 
Our  Babe,  to  show  His  Godhead  true. 
Can,  in  His  swaddling  bands,  control  the  damned  crew."* 

*  Milton's  Hymn,  on  the  morning  of  Christ's  Nativity. 


THE   DIFFUSION   OF   USEFUL    KNOWLEDGE.  421 

And,  then,  tlie  following  fortunes  of  His  Cliui'cli. 
Always,  antagonistic,  witli  tlie  world ;  and  yet,  its 
truest  benefactor.  And,  then,  the  onward  progress  of 
His  Gospel.  Like  Himself,  "  despised  and  rejected  of 
men  "  ;  and,  like  Himself,  blessing  its  persecutors.  The 
triumphs  of  the  faith  :  strengthening  in  sickness ;  con- 
soling, in  sorrow ;  superior  to  temptation ;  victorious, 
in  death.  The  trophies  of  the  Cross :  leading  the  van 
of  civilization ;  "  making  a  sunshine,  in  the  shady  place," 
of  ignorance  and  infirmity ;  opening  the  prison-doors,  to 
them,  that  are  in  bondage  ;  and  dispelling  the  darkness 
of  the  grave  !  "  Who  can  count  the  dust  of  Jacob  ;  and 
the  number  of  the  fourth  part  of  Israel  ?  "  Who  can 
measure  the  love  of  Christ,  or  recount  the  mercies  of 
salvation  !  What  were  life,  to  the  recapitulation  of  its 
blessings,  or  eternity,  to  the  exhaustion  of  its  grace  ! 
"  Canst  thou,  by  searching,  find  out  God  ?  Canst  thou 
find  out  the  Almighty,  to  perfection  ?  It  is  high  as 
heaven ;  what  canst  thou  do  !  It  is  deeper  than  hell ; 
what  canst  thou  know  ?  "  "  How  unsearchable  are  His 
judgments  ;  and  His  ways,  past  finding  out !  " 

Neighbours  and  friends,  if  I  have  had  your  sympathy, 
with  me,  in  w^hat  I  have,  now,  said,  I  have  done  service, 
to  your  souls.  I  have  designed  to  do  so.  You  bid  me 
here,  to  be  your  orator,  to-night  :  and  I  could  not  come 
to  you,  wdthout  a  blessing.  I  could  not  bear  to  leave 
you,  to  the  thought,  that  the  diflPusion  of  useful  knowl- 
edge is  fulfilled,  in  that,  which  does  but  "  perish,  in  the 
using."  I  could  not  deal  with  you,  as  if  there  had 
been  no  Fall ;  or  as  if  you  had  no  souls.     Much,  as  I 


422  THE   DIFFUSION    OF   USEFUL   KNOWLEDGE. 

wish,  for  you,  all  temporal  blessings,  if  the  grace  that 
makes  them  blessings  shall  come  with  them ;  I  desire, 
for  you,  far  more,  the  blessing,  which  will  be  yours, 
forever.  When  we  walk  out,  in  June,  among  our  fer- 
tile fields ;  and  dwell,  with  grateful  admiration,  on  the 
acres  upon  acres,  that  lie  spread  before  us,  thick  with 
standing  corn :  we  know,  that,  not  the  stalk,  which 
waves,  before  us,  in  its  graceful  beauty,  will  perpetuate 
the  harvest ;  but  the  germ,  invisible,  to  sight,  that 
nestles  in  the  swelling  grain.  And,  so,  with  human 
life.  All,  that  appears,  must  die.  Only  the  soul  can 
live,  forever.  "  The  things,  which  are  seen,  are 
temporal ;  but  the  things  which  are  not  seen,  are  eternal." 

"  Why  should  this  worthless  tegument  endure, 
If  its  undying  guest  be  lost,  forever  ? 
Oh,  let  us  keep  the  soul,  embalmed  and  pure, 

In  living  virtue  ;  that,  when  both  must  sever. 
Although  corruption  may  our  frame  consume, 
The  immortal  spirit,  in  the  skies,  may  bloom  ! "  * 

*  Horace  Smith ;  Address  to  an  Egyptian  Mummy. 


I. 

THE  NATION'S  GEIEF. 

*  A  FUNERAL  ADDRESS  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  PRESIDENT  HARRISON. 

It  is  a  dark  December  day.  A  deep  snow  clothes 
tlie  ground.  A  sharp  and  cutting  sleet  drives  witli 
the  wind.  Against  the  blinding  storm,  and  through 
the  deepening  drifts,  a  youthful  soldier,  with  his  knap- 
sack on  his  back,  pursues  his  steadfast  way.  A  strip- 
ling of  nineteen,  of  slender  frame,  and  feeble  health,  he 
is  an  Ensign  in  the  army  of  America,  with  "Washing- 
ton's commission  ;  and  he  marches,  with  his  small  de- 
tachment, on  his  first  service.  It  was  a  patriot  and  a 
Christian  duty.  There  are  those  before  me  who  re- 
member well,  what,  in  my  young  days,  was  yet  a  nur- 
sery-word, at  which  the  mother  pressed  her  infant  to 
her  bosom,  and  children  gathered  closer  to  the  fire — St. 
Claie's  defeat.  It  was  to  that  battle-field,  to  inter  the 
bones  of  its  six  hundred  slain,  that  our  young  Ensign 
hastened  with  his  troop.  And  though  it  ivas  a  patriot 
and  a  Christian  duty,  how  much  more  sternly  than  the 
fiercest  onset  of  the  heady  fight,  must  that  still  forest 

*  At  the  request  of  the  Common  Council  of  Burlington,  April  IS,  A.  D.  1841. 


424  THE  nation's  geief. 

field,  tlie  lowering  sky,  the  howling  wind,  those  gallant 
men  butchered  by  savage  hands,  and  all  the  recollec- 
tions and  forebodings  of  that  most  disastrous  day,  have 
tried  the  spirit  of  a  youthful  soldier,  on  his  first  cam- 
paign ! 

It  was  a  chill  November  night,  when  a  small  army 
of  Americans  encamped  themselves  upon  a  point  of 
land   between   the   Wabash   and   a  tributary  stream. 
They  were  the  gentlemen  and  yeomen    of  the  coun- 
try, who  had  enrolled  themselves,  under  the  territorial 
Governor,  to  defend  their  homes  against  the  inroads  of 
the  hostile  Indian  tribes,  and  to  chastise  their  insolence. 
A  long  and  tedious   march,  through  a  most  dreary  wil- 
derness, brings  them  at  last  to  where  their  wily  foes 
await  them ;  and,  on  their  proposition  for  a  conference 
and    treaty,    hostilities    are    intermitted    for   a   day. 
Slowly  and  cheerlessly  the  night  wears  oft',  within  that 
guarded  camp,  with  clouds  and   rain.     But  weary  men 
wUl  sleep,  whatever  may  betide  them ;  and  now,  for 
hours,  no  sound  has  stirred  the  stillness  of  the  scene, 
save  the  lone  sentry's  guarded  step.     But  what  is  that, 
which,   through    "the   misty   moonbeams'    struggling 
light,"  is  seen,  not  heard,  as  it  glides  through  the  prai- 
rie grass  ?     Is  it  a  snake  that  winds  his  stealthy  way  ? 
No ;  but  a  subtler  Indian :  and  in  one  instant  he  is 
dead!     Another;    and   the   savage   yell   starts   every 
sleeper  from  his  cold,  damp  couch,  and  death  begins  his 
work.      And   was   this   sleeping   camp   deceived,   sur- 
prised, betrayed  ?     Was  their  Commander  faithless  to 
his  trust  ?    No ;  every  man  had  slept  where  he  must 


THE  nation's  geief.  425 

fight,  his  clothes  on,  and  his  gun  loaded.  And  he,  while 
yet  the  night  was  young,  sat  by  his  tent-fire,  till  the 
houi-  should  come  to  rouse  his  weary  comi'ades.  In  a 
moment,  he  was  mounted.  Where  the  fight  was  hot- 
test, there  was  he.  A  ball,  with  no  commission  for  his 
life,  flies  thi^ough  his  haii-.  In  vain  his  officers  remon- 
strate with  him  for  his  fearless  hazard  of  himself.  He 
thinks  of  brave  St.  Clau',  and  of  the  gallant  victims  of 
that  fatal  field.  He  thinks  of  wasted  towns,  and  bla- 
zing homes,  and  mothers  slaughtered  with  their  infants. 
And  the  morning  dawns  not  till  the  victory  is  won ! 

Along  the  banks  of  the  Ohio,  spreads  a  smiling 
farm.  A  plain  and  modest  mansion  rises  from  a  sloping 
lawn.  Its  owner,  having  filled,  with  credit,  to  himself, 
and  honour  to  his  country,  almost  eveiy  station  but  the 
first — fought  its  battles,  governed  its  territories,  served 
it  in  both  houses  of  Congress,  and  represented  it  abroad 
— wears  out,  in  frugal  industry,  his  green  old  age,  a 
plain  Ohio  farmer :  his  house,  the  very  home  of  hospi- 
tality ;  his  name,  the  refuge  and  the  solace  of  the  poor, 
the  stranger  and  the  orphan  ;  his  style,  the  noblest  that 
is  known  to  nature's  heraldry,  a  patriot  and  a  patriarch ! 

It  is  a  gusty  day  in  March.  Before  the  morning 
dawns,  the  Federal  city  is  alive  with  men.  It  seems 
now  full  to  overflowing ;  and  yet  every  hour  brings 
hundi'eds,  thousands  more,  A  cavalcade  is  formed. 
Bells  ring,  and  cannons  roar.  Fair  women,  and  brave 
men,  throng  every  window  of  that  noble  Avenue.  Not 
a  State  of  the  whole  twenty-six  that  is  not  repre- 
sented in  that  long  drawn  line.     It  is  the  nation's  Jubi- 


426  THE   IS^ATIOJSr's    GEIEF. 

lee.  All  classes,  all  conditions,  botli  sexes,  every  age, 
partake  tlie  general  joy.  A  grave,  plain  man,  arrayed 
in  modest  black,  that  rides,  uncovered,  on  tke  steed, 
more  conscious  tlian  himself  of  the  occasion,  is  the  mag- 
net tkat  attracts  all  eyes,  and  touches  every  heart.  He 
reaches  the  Capitol.  He  ascends  the  steps.  He  stands, 
majestic  in  his  meekness,  and  simplicity,  before  the  im- 
measurable multitude,  who  have  brought  up  with  them 
the  homage  of  the  nation.  The  highest  officer  of  Jus- 
tice administers  to  him  the  most  magnificent  oath  that 
ever  rises  up  to  heaven.  And  the  youthful  ensign,  the 
gallant  general,  the  laborious  farmer,  is  Peesident  of 
THE  United  States. 

"  One  little  month  "  has  passed.  It  is  a  fitfal  April 
day.  Again,  the  Federal  city  is  astir.  Cannons  are 
heard  ;  but  these  are  minute  guns.  The  bells  peal  out : 
but  'tis  the  funeral  knell.  The  streets  are  thronged : 
but  every  face  is  sad,  and  every  voice  is  still.  Once 
more,  a  long  procession  passes  down  that  noble  Ave- 
nue :  but  yew  and  cypress  take  the  place  of  nodding 
plumes,  and  muffled  drums  beat  time  to  aching  hearts. 
Again,  that  grave,  plain  man  is  there :  no  more  erect 
and  tall,  the  pillar  of  the  State ;  but  in  his  grave  clothes, 
stretched  upon  the  funeral  Car.  He  enters  not  the 
gate,  as  when  we  last  beheld  him,  to  that  glorious  Cap- 
itol ;  but  turns  aside,  to  the  still  spot,  where  sleep  the 
honoured  dead :  and  "  earth  to  earth,  ashes  to  ashes, 
dust  to  dust,"  concludes  the  story  and  the  scene. 
Never  had  man  a  funeral  so  sublime.  Never,  for  Chief- 
tain fallen,  did  a  whole  nation  so  pour  out  its  heart. 


THE  nation's  grief.  427 

"Was  it  not  beautiful — and  just  as  it  was  beautiful — 
that  he,  who,  on  that  sleety  day,  began  his  public  life, 
with  pious  rites  for  St.  Clair's  butchered  host,  should 
find  himself  such  sepulchre  ? 

Fellow-citizens,  is  it  not  so  that   "  truth  is  strange, 
stranger  than  fiction  ?  "     Can  we  yet  realize  that  these 
things  are  ?     Does  it  not  seem  like  some  wild  night- 
mare dream  ?     Or,  rather,  like  some  deep,  portentous 
plot  of  the  old  Grecian  drama,  with  range  as  wide,  with 
themes  as  high,  with  incidents  as  various,  with  interest 
as  thrilling ;  the  same  vicissitudes  of  fortune,  the  same 
procrastinated  hopes,  the  same  splendid  attainment  of 
the  loftiest  aim,  and  then,  in  one  more  moment,  the 
same  catastrophe  and  cruel  crush  of  all  ?     But  surprise, 
amaze,  and  overwhelm  us,  as  it  may,  it  still  is  sadly  so. 
The  brave  soldier,  the  wise  statesman,  the  honest  man, 
the  patriot  President,  is  taken  from  us,  ere  we  yet  had 
felt  that  he  was  ours  :  and  we  are  met,  to  interchange 
our  sympathies ;  and  to  comfort  one  another ;  and  to 
draw  from  his  life,  and  character,  and  services,  and, 
chiefly,  from  this  most  striking  incident  of  modern  times, 
such  lessons,  both  of  patriotism,  and  piety,  as  may  serve 
to  make  us,  if  God  bless  them  to  our  use,  both  better 
citizens  and  better  men. 

The  promise  of  his  life,  so  far  as  parentage  and  edu- 
cation were  concerned,  could  scarcely  have  been  better. 
His  father,  Benjamin  Harrison,  was  among  the  immortal 
signers  of  the  Declaration  of  American  Independence, 
and  a  man  distinguished  among  those  distinguished  men. 
In  1Y64,  he  had  been  one  of  the  remonstrants  against  the 


428  THE  nation's  grief. 

odious  Stamp  Act.  He  was  a  member  of  tlie  first  Con- 
tinental Congress,  wliicli  met  in  1774.  He  was  one  of 
tlie  Committee  to  place  tlie  country  in  a  posture  of  de- 
fence ;  one  of  the  Committee  to  devise  a  plan  for  tlie 
support  of  the  army;  Chairman  of  the  Committee 
whose  agency  secm^ed  the  services  of  La  Fayette  and 
his  companions ;  and,  afterwards,  a  member  of  the 
Board  of  War.  And,  on  the  10th  of  June,  and  4th  of 
July,  1776,  he  was  among  the  foremost  in  the  consum- 
mation of  that  glorious  deed,  which  made,  of  thirteen 
British  Provinces,  as  many  free  and  independent  States ; 
and  laid,  in  this  new  world,  the  broad  foundations  of 
an  empire,  which  will  dishonour  and  betray  its  found- 
ers, and  disaj^point  its  destiny,  if  it  be  not  the  greatest, 
the  most  haj^py,  and  the  most  virtuous  in  the  world. 
It  was  of  such  blood — show  me  the  blood,  and  for  the 
most  part,  I  will  tell  you  of  the  man ! — and  in  such 
stirring  times,  that  Williaji  Henry  Harrison  was  born, 
at  Berkley,  on  the  James  River,  not  far  A'om  Richmond, 
in  Virginia,  on  the  9th  day  of  February,  1773.^  His 
birth  was  thus  in  the  heroic  age  of  the  Republic ;  and 
the  stern  virtues,  simple  manners,  and  self  denying  habits 

*  General  Ilarrison  was  not  less  happy  in  his  bringing  up  than  in  his  blood. 
After  all,  the  mother  has  the  making  of  the  man.  I  am  happy  in  being  indebted 
to  my  esteemed  neighbour  and  good  friend,  the  Rev.  Cortlandt  Van  Rensselaer, 
for  this  notice  of  the  mother  of  the  President.  It  is  taken  from  his  sermon,  in 
the  city  of  Washington,  on  the  Sunday  after  his  decease  ;  as  published  in  "The 
New  World." — "  He  was  '  trained  up  in  the  way  he  should  go,'  by  the  example 
and  instructions  of  maternal  love.  His  mother  (of  the  Bassett  family,)  was  a 
woman  of  piety  and  prayer.  During  the  General's  last  visit  to  Virginia,  he  occu- 
pied his  mother's  apartments — the  one  in  which  he  was  born — and  he  took  great 
interest  in  pointing  out  the  closet  to  which  she  retired  for  private  devotion,  and 
the  corner  of  the  room  where  she  sat  by  the  table  to  read  her  Bible  ;  and  where 
ehe  taught  him  on  his  knees  to  pray,  '  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven.' " 


THE  nation's  geeef.  429 

of  "  the  times  that  tried  men's  souls "  moulded  him, 
even  from  the  cradle,  for  a  patriot  and  hero.  His  father 
dying  in  his  eighteenth  year,  while  he  was  yet  at 
Hampden  Sidney  College,  the  care  of  his  education  de- 
volved upon  his  guardian,  Kobert  Morris,  the  great  Fi- 
nancier of  the  Revolution :  and,  with  his  permission,  he 
repaired  to  Philadelphia,  and  commenced  the  study  of 
medicine,  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Benjamin  Eush ;  like 
Morris,  a  member  of  the  great  Congress  of  1776,  and 
signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence.  Thus  was 
he  brought  up  at  Gamaliel's  feet ;  and  with  such  a  train- 
ing to  bring  out  such  blood,  what  wonder  if  we  find 
him,  at  nineteen,  his  books  forsaken  for  the  sword,  an 
Ensign  in  the  army,  and  engaged  with  Wayne,  in  that 
most  desperate  and  most  patriotic  service,  the  rescue  of 
the  frontier  States  fi-om  the  incursions  of  the  Western 
Indians !  From  his  first  service  of  piety  and  patriotism, 
on  St.  Clair's  fatal  field,  his  path  was  ever  that  of  duty 
and  of  honour.  The  next  year,  he  was  made  Lieuten- 
ant, and.  soon  after  Aid  to  that  incarnate  spirit  of  in- 
domitable bravery,  Anthony  Wayne ;  receiving  more 
than  once  his  never  to  be  questioned  attestation  of  de- 
votion, skill,  and  gallantry.  In  1775,  at  twenty-two, 
he  was  a  Captain  in  command  of  an  important  frontier 
station,  on  the  spot  where  now  the  city  of  Cincinnati 
stands;  and  Washington  himself  appointed  him,  at 
twenty-four,  the  Secretary  of  the  North  Western  Terri- 
tory, and  ex  officio  its  Lieutenant-Governor.  From  that 
Territory  he  became,  at  barely  twenty-five,  its  first 
Representative  in  Congress  ;  and,  though  the  youngest, 


430  THE  nation's  grief. 

one  of  tlie  most  effective  members  of  tliat  body ;  and, 
among  otlier  most  important  measures,  earned  tlirougli  a 
bill,  by  whicb  the  Public  Lands  were  made  accessible 
to  pm-cliasers  of  moderate  means,  tlie  progress  of  im- 
provement and  of  comfort  accelerated  infinitely,  mill- 
ions paid  into  the  public  treasury,  and  homes  created 
for  unnumbered  millions,  in  the  ages  yet  to  come,  of 
happy  Christian  freemen.  In  1801,  at  twenty-nine,  he 
was  appointed  Territorial  Governor  of  Indiana,  and 
sole  Commissioner  for  treaties  with  the  Indians,  with 
powers  unlimited ;  and  re-appointed,  at  the  people's  in- 
stance, thirteen  times.  On  the  6th  of  November,  1811, 
as  Governor  of  Indiana,  and  Commander-in-chief,  he 
gained  the  important  victory  over  the  Indians,  at  Tip- 
pecanoe ;  a  name,  immortal  now,  as  Marathon,  or  Mon- 
mouth, or  New  Orleans.  In  1812,  he  was  appointed, 
by  President  Madison,  Commander-in-chief  of  the  North 
Western  army;  encountering  dangers,  endui'ing  hard- 
ships, and  performing  services  which  won  for  him  from 
every  quarter  confidence  and  praise.  In  April,  of  the 
following  year,  he  conducted  the  successful  defence  of 
Fort  Meigs,  against  the  British  troops  and  Indians ;  and 
terminated  it  by  a  sortie,  which,  for  its  boldness  of  con- 
ception, and  rapidity  and  energy  of  execution,  ranks 
among  the  most  distinguished  acts  of  modern  warfare. 
And,  in  October,  he  drove  the  enemy  completely  from 
the  field  in  the  decisive  victory  of  the  River  Thames — 
"  a  victory,"  said  Langdon  Cheeves,  Speaker  of  the 
House  of  Representatives,  "  such  as  would  have  secured 
to  a  Roman  General,  in  the  best  days  of  the  Republic, 


THE  nation's  geief.  431 

tlie  honours  of  a  triumpli,  and  put  an  end  to  the  war 
in  Upper  Canada."  "  The  result,"  says  President  Mad- 
ison, "  is  signally  honoui-able  to  Major  General  Harri- 
son, by  whose  military  talents  it  was  performed." 
"  The  blessings  of  thousands  of  women  and  children," 
says  Governor  Snyder  of  Pennsylvania,  "  rescued  from 
the  scalping-knife  of  the  ruthless  savage  of  the  wilder- 
ness, rest  on  Harrison  and  his  gallant  army."  His  pub- 
lic life  from  this  time  was  in  civil  stations.  In  1814 
and  1815,  he  discharged  most  honourable  duties,  as  a 
Commissioner  of  Indian  treaties.  In  1816,  he  went  to 
Congress,  where  he  was  a  prominent  and  influential 
member.  In  1819,  he  was  elected  to  the  Senate  of 
Ohio,  where  he  served  for  several  years.  In  1824,  he 
took  his  seat  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  and 
succeeded  General  Jackson,  as  Chairman  of  the  Com- 
mittee on  Military  Affairs ;  and  from  that  station  he 
was  sent,  in  1826,  as  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to  the 
Republic  of  Colombia.  .  Twelve  years,  from  his  recall, 
he  spent  in  dignified  retirement  at  North  Bend,  from 
which  the  people's  will  summoned  him,  by  the  electoral 
vote  of  nineteen  States,  to  the  Chief  Magistracy  of  the 
Republic,  to  be  the  first  of  sixteen  millions  of  free  men : 
a  station  from  which  the  present  life  permits  of  no  pro- 
motion ;  and  from  which,  therefore,  by  an  euthanasia, 
more  poetical  than  ever  poet  dreamed  of,  while  yet  the 
flush  of  triumph  was  upon  his  cheek,  he  was  removed, 
to  wait,  in  the  serene  asylum  of  the  grave,  the  coming 
and  the  kingdom  of  his  Lord. 

I  have  felt  that  there  was  no  need  to  dwell  upon 


432  THE  nation's  geief. 

the  history  of  President  Harrison.  His  life,  with  all 
its  incidents  and  issues,  is  familiar  to  your  ears  as 
"  household  words."  Never,  I  believe,  was  any  man  so 
thoroughly  well  known  to  any  people.  From  the  year 
1791,  w^hen  he  first  entered  the  army,  until  the  year 
1829,  when  he  came  home  from  the  Republic  of  Colom- 
bia, his  life  was  wholly  in  the  public  service.  And 
from  1835,  to  the  present  time,  the  eye  of  the  whole 
nation  has  been  continually  and  intensely  fixed  upon 
him.  He  has  been  written  of,  spoken  of,  and  talked  of; 
and,  what  makes  more  for  thoroughness  of  scrutiny,  he 
has  been  written  against,  spoken  against,  and  talked 
against,  through  all  that  time.  If  ever  the  charge  of 
being  deficient  in  enthusiasm  rested  on  us,  as  a  nation, 
the  year  last  past  has  vdped  it  off.  There  is  no  echo  in 
this  land  that  has  not  answered  to  the  name  of  Harri- 
son. He  has  been  chanted  in  songs,  and  painted  on 
banners,  and  engraven  on  medals,  and  woven  into  rib- 
bons, and  enamelled  in  vases..  Not  a  deed  of  his  that 
has  not  been  discussed  in  Congress,  and  in  the  Legisla- 
tui'e  of  every  State,  and  at  mass  meetings  from  Maine 
to  Georgia,  and  in  the  primary  assemblies  in  every 
town.  All  his  battles  have  been  fought  and  fought 
again.  The  place  where  one  of  them  occurred  has  been 
adopted  as  the  name  for  gatherings  in  every  city  and  in 
every  village ;  and  supplied  a  watchword  that  has  gone 
abroad  on  every  breeze.  The  place  of  his  residence, 
the  materials  of  his  house,  the  least  important  of  his 
daily  habits,  were  taken  up  as  countersigns,  and  set  to 
music,  and  immortalized  in  song.     It  may  be  said,  in 


THE  nation's  geief.  433 

short,  without  a  figure,  that  his  private  life  was  as  pub- 
lic as  the  sun.  That,  under  such  circumstances,  and 
with  such  a  trial,  he  should  be  chosen,  by  so  large  a 
vote,  to  the  first  office  in  the  nation,  is  praise  beyond  all 
eulogy.  It  releases  from  all  necessity,  and  it  leaves  but 
little  opportunity,  on  an  occasion  such  as  this,  to  speak 
with  much  detail  either  of  his  life  or  character.  A  few 
of  its  more  obvious  traits,  however,  shall  be  noticed 
now ;  and  this  will  bring  us  to  the  lessons  which  this 
striking  providence  seems  meant  to  teach  us. 

It  never  has  been  claimed  for  General  Harrison  that 
he  was  a  man  of  brilliant  parts.  Neither  was  General 
Washington.  Such  men  are  showy,  taking,  often  dan- 
gerous, seldom  useful.  Their  splendour  is  the  excess  of 
some  one  quality ;  most  generally,  at  the  expense  of 
others,  quite  as  valuable.  They  give  more  light  than 
heat ;  and  are  admired  more  than  relied  on.  True 
greatness  is  the  equipoise  of  parts.  Shaks23eare,  the 
great  philosopher  of  our  humanity,  has  touched  this 
truth  with  his  own  matchless  skill. 


"  the  elements 


So  mix'd  in  him,  that  nature  might  stand  up, 
And  say  to  all  the  world,  This  was  a  man ! " 

So  it  was,  beyond  all  men  of  ancient  or  of  modern 
times,  with  General  Washington.  And  it  was  this 
well  mixing  of  the  elements  that  constituted  General 
Harrison's  greatness.  He  was,  emphatically,  a  well 
BALANCED  MAN.  It  was  this  which  bore  him  up  in  all 
his  different  and  weighty  trusts,  through  an  half  cen- 
voL.  IV. — 28 


434  THE  nation's  grief. 

tury  of  public  service — the  Ensign  of  19,  tlie  President 
of  68 — and  won  for  liim  liis  final  triumph,  and  made 
him  equal  to  that  greatest  of  his  trials,  his  success.  It 
was  this  that  carried  him  not  only  through  the  most 
unsparing  canvassing  that  ever  man  endui'ed ;  but  all 
tlie  while  developed  new  energies  of  character,  and  in- 
spired new  claims  to  confidence.  It  was  by  this,  that 
even  the  nick-name  that  was  everywhere  applied  to 
him,  on  banners  and  in  songs,  and  would  have  cheap- 
ened in  the  public  estimation  any  other  man,  was  dig- 
nified by  its  connection  with  his  character,  and  became 
a  title  of  affectionate  respect.  It  is  a  supei'ficial  expla- 
nation of  his  unlooked-for  and  unj)aralleled  success,  to 
say,  that  "  the  huri'ah  "  elected  him.  The  greatest  diffi- 
culty was  not  to  catch,  but  to  sustain,  the  popular  gale. 
A  craft  that  carried  too  much  sail  would  have  run  un- 
der, in  it.  Well  built,  well  ballasted,  well  trimmed,  it 
bore  him  straight  to  port. 

To  specify  a  few  of  the  good  elements  that  were  "  so 
mixed  in  him."  He  was  a  man  of  deai\  sound  judg- 
ment. This  is  everywhere  apparent  in  his  course  of 
life.  Hence,  his  selection,  while  so  young,  to  such  high 
trusts,  by  men  so  keen  in  their  analysis  of  character ;  by 
Washington,  by  Jefferson,  by  Madison,  by  Quincy  Ad- 
ams. It  is  apparent  in  his  outline  of  the  principles  by 
which  a  just  administration  of  the  Executive  depart- 
ment should  be  governed,  in  his  celebrated  letter,  in 
1838,  to  Mr.  Denny.  And  it  was  shown,  to  take  one 
great  example  in  the  place  of  all  that  might  be  pointed 
out,  in  his  selection  of  a  Cabinet,  at  such  a  time,  under 


THE  nation's  geief.  435 

sucli  circumstances,  of  wliicli,  botli  as  a  whole,  and  as 
to  its  individual  members,  tlie  nation  has  expressed 
unanimous,  unqualified  approval. 

He  had  improved  the  native  strength  and  soundness 
of  his  mind  by  careful  study  and  reflection.  "  He  was 
a  scholar,  and  a  ripe  and  good  one."  More  practice 
with  the  sword  and  plough  than  with  the  pen,  exposed 
him,  doubtless,  to  the  criticism  of  using  the  materials, 
rather  than  the  results,  of  scholarship.  But,  while 
there  were  those  who  charged  the  Inaugural  with  being 
pedantic,  who,  for  their  lives,  could  not  have  told 
whether  this  ancient  name,  or  that,  on  which  he  dwelt, 
with  such  high  zest,  were  fr^om  the  Greek  or  Roman  his- 
tory ;  there  was  this  charm  about  his  pedantry,  that  it 
proved  clearly  that  the  piece  was  his. 

He  was  an  exmnQntlj  practical  man.  It  must  have 
been  so  ;  or  he  never  would  have  exercised  so  well  and 
wisely  the  office  of  Territorial  Governor,  so  complicated 
and  so  arduous  in  its  responsibilities,  as  to  be  re-ap- 
pointed to  it  so  often,  and  so  long.  That  he  was  so, 
the  great  measures  prove  which  he  espoused  and  car- 
ried through,  in  his  Congressional  career.  That  he  was 
so,  his  announcement  of  the  principles  of  his  adminis- 
tration clearly  showed.  And  even  more  so,  the  alacrity 
with  which,  from  his  twelve  years'  retirement,  at  North 
Bend,  he  stepped  at  once,  as  if  promoted  from  the  Cab- 
inet, into  the  duties  of  the  Presidential  office. 

He  was  a  man  of  great  directness.  He  had  no 
knowledge  of  stratagem  and  subterfuge.  He  went  by 
the  air-line  to  the  object  which  he  sought ;  and  verified 


436 

tlie  saying  of  tlie  Sultan  Akbar,  that  "  lie  never  heard 
of  any  man  being  lost  in  a  straight  road."  This  was 
the  secret  of  his  great  success  in  dealing  with  the  In- 
dians. He  made  not  less  than  thirteen  treaties  with 
them  :  all  securing  their  just  rights,  and  all  promoting 
the  advantage  of  the  government.  A  common  view 
of  things  would  seek  to  match  the  savage  subtlety  with 
cultivated  cunning.  There  is  no  greater  error.  The 
overmatch  for  craft  is  honest,  open  dealing,  universally. 
Your  wily  politician  stands  no  chance  with  such  a  man 
as  General  HaiTison.  He  is  thrown  off  the  track  at 
once.  It  is  what  the  Scrij^ture  saith,  "  He  taketh  the 
wise  in  their  own  craftiness." 

He  was  an  honest  man.  What  mines  of  wealth 
were  opened  to  him,  in  his  long  connection  with  the 
public  lands,  and  in  his  dealings  with  the  Indians,  those 
hapless  victims  of  the  cupidity  of  agents  !  And  yet  he 
lived  poor,  and  he  died  poor.  He  held  his  offices  for 
ser\dce,  not  for  spoils. 

He  was  a  zealous  man.  In  this  way,  he  made  up 
for  shining  talents.  "What  he  undertook,  he  did.  He 
gave  himself  to  do  it.  He  spared  no  time,  no  pains. 
This  you  see  in  all  his  course.  Especially,  in  the  prose- 
cution of  the  leading  measures,  which  he  undertook  in 
Congress ;  the  Land  Bill,  the  Militia  System,  the  Revo- 
lutionary pensions,  the  free  governments  of  South 
America.  This  he  showed,  in  his  short  month,  in  his 
devotion  to  the  Presidential  duties. 

He  was  a  Mnd  and  generous  man.  His  house  was 
filled  with  widows  and  with  orphans.     He  had  a  seat 


THE  nation's  grief.  437 

by  Ills  cheerfiil  hearth,  a  plate  at  Ms  simple  board,  for 
every  passer-by  that  needed  fire  or  food.  He  was  the 
liberal  patron  of  all  public  enterprises,  for  the  promo- 
tion of  learning  and  religion  :  and  the  habit  of  his  pri- 
vate hospitality  was  well  expressed,  in  the  long  latch- 
string,  that  hung  down,  in  every  model,  and  in  every 
picture,  from  his  cabin  door ;  and  never  was  pulled  in. 
This  was  the  secret  of  his  universal  popularity.  The 
kindness,  that  was  glowing  in  his  heart,  beamed  from 
his  countenance.  He  was  felt  to  be,  because  in  truth  he 
was,  the  friend  of  all.  And,  in  his  few  short  weeks  at 
Washington,  he  had  conciliated,  by  the  fi-ankness  of  his 
manners,  his  modesty,  simplicity,  and  friendliness,  the 
affectionate  respect  of  all  of  every  class  in  the  commu- 
nity. 

In  one  word,  and  to  sum  up  all,  he  was  a  Cheistian 
PATRIOT.  He  entered  not  upon  his  high  and  holy  trust 
for  God  and  man,  without  making  this  explicit  decla- 
ration of  his  faith  in  Jesus  Christ :  "  I  deem  the  present 
occasion  sufficiently  important  and  solemn  to  justify  me 
in  expressing  to  my  fellow-citizens,  a  profound  rever- 
ence for  the  Christian  religion,  and  a  thorough  convic- 
tion, that  sound  morals,  religious  liberty,  and  a  just 
sense  of  religious  responsibility,  are  essentially  con- 
nected with  all  true  and  lasting  happiness ;  and  to  that 
good  Being,  who  has  blessed  us  by  the  gifts  of  civil 
and  religious  freedom,  who  watched  over  and  prospered 
the  labours  of  our  Fathers ;  and  has  hitherto  preserved 
to  us  institutions  far  exceeding  in  excellence  those  of 
any  other  people,  let  us  unite,  in  fervently  commending 


438  THE  nation's  geief. 

every  interest  of  om*  beloved  country  in  all  future 
time."  He  bought  tliat  clay — an  act  of  beautiful  and 
simple  piety ! — a  Bible  and  a  Prayer  Book ;  as  if  lie 
would  begin  anew,  in  his  new  station,  the  sacred  offices 
by  which  his  life  had  been  consoled  and  consecrated. 
He  daily  read,  not  without  prayer,  the  holy  word  of 
God.  He  constantly  repaired,  for  public  worship,  to 
the  house  of  prayer.  He  prostrated  himself,  on  bended 
knee,  in  the  assembly  of  the  faithful.  He  had  re- 
solved,* even  on  the  next  Lord's  day  that  followed  the 
commencement  of  that  fatal  sickness,  to  present  himself, 
Ms  soul  and  body,  a  living  sacrifice,  before  the  altar  of 
his  crucified  Redeemer.  And  with  those  latest  words 
— delirious,  if  you  will,  but  proving  still  the  ruling 
passion  strong  in  death* — "  Sni,  I  wish  you  to  iindee- 

STAKD  THE  TEUE  PEINCIPLES  OF  THE  GoVEENMENT :  I 
WISH  THEM  CAEEIED  OUT:  I  ASK  NOTHING  MOEE  " WOrds, 

as  well  suited  to  his  illustrious  successor,  as  they  were 
worthy  of  himself — ^he  died,  as  he  had  lived,  a  Christian 
and  a  Patriot. 

And  he  is  dead  !  He,  that  so  lately  was  in  every 
mouth,  the  theme  of  praise  or  blame,  has  gone  beyond 
the  reach  of  both !  He,  for  whose  elevation  to  the  Pres- 
idential chair,  all  business  was  suspended,  all  interests 
seemed  tame,  the  very  stream  of  life  stood  still,  or 
rolled  with  torrent  fulness  in  his  wake,  to  sit  there  but 
one  little  month  !     He,  whose  accession  to  the  post  of 

*  This  is  stated  by  his  Pastor,  the  Rev.  William  Hawley,  Rector  of  St.  John's 
Church,  Washington  city,  who  was  with  him  through  his  sickness,  and  closed 
bis  eyes. 


THE  nation's  geief.  439 

higliest  honour  in  the  nation's  gift  was  hailed,  as  the 
commencement  of  a  new  and  brighter  age — business 
to  be  revived,  and  confidence  restored,  and  peace  and 
plenty  and  prosperity  increased  and  multiplied;  he, 
to  whom  every  eye  was  turned,  and  on  whose  look  such 
thousands  hung,  now  lies,  alone  and  still,  the  tenant  of 
a  cold  and  narrow  tomb  !  Oh !  what  a  lesson,  if  men 
would  but  learn,  of  the  uncertainty  of  all  terrestrial 
things  !  Oh !  what  a  lesson,  if  men  would  but  learn, 
of  the  utter  worthlessness  of  human  calculations !  Oh ! 
what  a  lesson,  if  men  would  but  learn,  that  whatever 
men  desire,  design,  or  do,  "  the  Lord  God  omnipotent 
reigneth ! " 

Fellow-citizens,  is  it  not  true  that  we  have  needed 
such  a  lesson  ?  Has  not  our  day  of  unexampled  sun- 
shine made  us  forgetful  that  a  cloud  could  lower,  or 
that  a  storm  could  break  ?  Instead  of  leading  us  to 
penitence,  as  the  Apostle  tells  us  that  it  should,  has 
not  the  heavenly  goodness  been  abused  to  rank  licen- 
tiousness, impenitence  and  unbelief?  Were  we  not 
fast  becoming  a  worldly,  sensual,  godless  nation  ?  I 
design  not  now  to  enumerate  or  to  reprove  the  mass 
of  national  or  of  individual  vices.  I  confine  myself 
to  but  one  aspect.  I  ask  your  attention  to  but  one 
single  point.  Will  you  not  all  admit,  that  the  great 
strife,  which  agitated  the  whole  nation,  like  a  stormy 
sea,  the  groundswell  not  yet  over,  was  entered  into, 
and  conducted,  and  the  issue  welcomed,  in  forgetful-^ 
ness  of  God ;  in  utter  and  mistaken  confidence  in  hu- 
man wisdom,  human  power,  and  human  worth  ?    As 


440  THE   NATION  S    GRIEF. 

the  great  contest  di'ew  towards  its  crisis,  did  not  all 
ears,  all  eyes,  all  hearts  intensely  fix  themselves  on  the 
report,  as  it  was  borne  from  State  to  State ;  as  if  the 
election  of  this  candidate,  or  that,  involved  all  fears,  all 
hopes,  all  destinies;  and  God  were  not  in  heaven? 
Bnt  "  be  the  people  never  so  unquiet,"  God  is  there. 
"  The  shields  of  the  earth  belong  to  Him."  And,  "  cursed 
be  the  man  that  maketh  flesh  his  arm,"  however  long 
his  justice  may  delay  the  sentence,  will  be  asserted,  in 
terrific  vengeance,  upon  every  nation,  and  upon  every 
individual.  It  becomes  us,  then,  to  bow,  in  all  humility, 
before  the  astounding  stroke.  To  read,  in  that  brief 
sway  of  the  most  noble  empu'e  that  is  lighted  by  the 
sun,  the  feebleness  of  human  power ;  in  this  unlooked- 
for  disappointment  of  the  wisest  plans,  the  fairest  pros- 
pects, and  the  loftiest  hopes,  the  blindness  of  all  human 
wisdom ;  in  the  rude  shock,  which  makes  the  land  to 
tremble,  and  all  faces  gather  blackness,  the  resistless 
sovereignty  of  God.  Forever  blessed  be  His  name,  that, 
as  His  wrath  is  slow,  and  destruction  His  "strange 
work,"  so  He  is  quick  in  mercy,  and  unbounded  in  His 
tenderness,  to  them  that  turn  to  Him  with  tears  and 
prayers  !  "  At  what  instant  I  shall  speak  concerning  a 
nation,  and  concerning  a  kingdom,  to  pluck  up  and  to 
pull  down,  and  to  destroy  it,  if  that  nation  against 
whom  I  pronounced,  turn  from  their  evil,  I  will  repent 
of  the  evil  that  I  thought  to  do  unto  them."  May  it 
be,  my  fellow-citizens,  that  we,  roused  by  this  voice  of 
warning,  may  so  turn  from  our  evil  ways,  that  God, 
propitiated  to  us  by  the  intercession  of  His  Son,  may 


THE  nation's  GEEEF.  441 

turn  to  us  again,  and  bless  us  as  a  nation  !  Such  as 
the  individuals  are,  such  the  community  must  be.  The 
work  is  in  our  individual  hands.  The  cure  is  in  our  in- 
dividual hearts.  The  blessing  is  for  us,  our  children, 
and  our  children's  children — peace,  plenty  and  prosper- 
ity, the  nation's  heritage,  as  it  has  been  so  long ;  and 
peace  with  God,  and  everlasting  life,  assured  to  all, 
through  Christ,  who  take  the  Lord  to  be  their  God. 

The  present  sad  solemnity  should  lead  us  to  review 
the  mercies  which,  as  a  nation,  have  been  showered 
upon  us ;  and  to  gather,  even  from  its  most  mournful 
aspects,  wholesome  lessons  for  the  future.  There  have 
been  completed  thirteen  Presidential  terms ;  nine  times 
the  people's  voice  has  summoned  one  of  their  own  number 
to  the  loftiest  station  which  a  freeman  can  be  called  to 
fill ;  and  never  before  has  the  divine  decree  set  aside  their 
suffrages.  When  we  consider,  that  maturity  of  age, 
ripeness  of  wisdom,  hoarded  treasures  of  experience,  are 
among  the  most  immediate  qualifications  for  the  office, 
and  that  he  who  fills  it  bears  a  weight  of  duty  and  re- 
sponsibility as  great  as  man  can  bear,  this  must  be 
owned  a  merciful  and  gracious  Providence.  Had  we 
not  come  almost  to  lose  the  thought  of  the  Chief  Mag- 
istrate's mortality?  Was  there  not  danger,  lest  we 
quite  neglect  the  best  employment  of  that  wise  provis- 
ion which  the  Constitution  makes  for  this  contingency  ? 
Was  the  consideration  that  he  might  be  called  to  exer- 
cise the  first,  a  leading  thought  in  our  selection  of  the 
citizen  to  hold  the  second,  office  in  our  government  ? 
Was  it  not  needful  that  the  nation  should  be  roused  to 


442  THE  nation's  geief. 

its  responsibilities?  Was  it  not  time  tliat  we  were 
taught,  by  sucli  a  lesson  as  would  speak,  witli  trumpet- 
tongue,  to  every  heart,  the  rashness  of  our  confidence, 
our  carelessness  of  what  the  future  might  bring  forth  ? 
And  what  a  trumpet  voice  it  is !  A  month,  between 
the  pinnacle  of  human  fame  and  the  cold  grave  !  A 
month,  between  the  high  flood-tide  of  power  and  influ- 
ence, with  men,  not  only,  but  with  nations,  and  the 
dust  of  death !  Fellow-citizens,  is  not  the  touching  sen- 
timent of  Edmund  Burke  forced  home  upon  our  hearts, 
"  What  shadows  we  are ;  and  what  shadows  we  pur- 
sue ! " 

Short  as  the  period  was  of  General  Harrison's  ad- 
ministration, it  has  sufficed  for  useful  lessons,  and  for 
signal  benefits.  Is  it  not  a  beautiful  and  most  impress- 
ive lesson,  and  full  of  hope — let  us  not  jdeld  to  the 
temptation,  to  say,  pride — for  our  republican  institu- 
tions, to  see  a  private  citizen,  a  simple  farmer,  a  man 
Avithout  an  hour  of  service  in  the  Cabinet,  called  by  a 
nation's  voice,  from  the  secluded  shades  of  rural  life,  to 
take  his  place  among  the  proudest  princes  of  the  earth : 
and  to  see  him  take  it,  with  an  assurance  to  our  hearts, 
of  skill,  and  self-possession,  and  effective  energy,  which 
gives  us  perfect  confidence  that  all  our  interests  are 
safe ;  no  shadow  of  a  doubt,  that  our  true  honour,  as  a 
nation,  is  secure ;  no  moment's  apprehension,  that  our 
glorious  Constitution  will  be  guarded,  even  to  a  letter ! 
And,  when  one  little  month  has  laid  the  nation's  choice 
in  the  still  grave, — ^without  a  shock,  without  a  struggle, 
"without  one  tremulous  vibration  of  the  great  machine, 


THE  nation's  geief.  443 

— to  see  its  destinies  ti-ansferred  to  other  hands !  A 
plain  Virginia  citizen,  called,  at  an  instant,  from  his 
fields,  or  from  his  books ;  the  helm  of  government  as- 
sumed as  firmly,  yet  as  modestly  and  quietly,  as  if  he 
had  but  entered,  at  his  father's  death,  upon  the  old 
homestead  farm ;  and  the  great  ship,  in  which  our  des- 
tinies are  all  embarked,  ploughing  her  gallant  way,  as 
proudly,  and  as  peacefully,  beneath  that  glorious  ban- 
ner of  the  stars  and  stripes,  as  if  no  cloud  of  change  had 
passed  across  the  sky !  Fellow-citizens,  this  is  a  new 
and  searching  trial  of  our  institutions  :  provided  for,  in- 
deed, by  the  deep  wisdom  of  our  fathers,  but  never 
called  in  action  until  now.  To  my  mind,  the  experi- 
ment is  full  of  hope  and  promise.  It  appeals  to  every 
generous  sentiment.  It  challenges  our  utmost  confi- 
dence, as  citizens  and  men.  Let  it  not  be  our  fault,  if 
this  unheard-of  crisis  in  our  government  does  not  ap- 
prove us,  before  all  nations,  what  we  claim  to  be,  a  peo- 
ple who  are  sovereigns !  Let  all  our  efforts  be  exerted, 
let  all  our  prayers  be  offered,  that  the  nation's  second 
choice  may  fill  the  measure  of  our  highest  expectation 
from  their  first ! 

There  is  one  benefit  from  General  Harrison's  admin- 
istration, of  which  no  doubtfalness  is  possible ;  his  clear, 
distinct,  and  manly  determination  to  serve,  under  no 
possible  circumstances,  a  second  term.  Let  it  be,  that  the 
Constitution  does  not  forbid  it.  Let  it  be,  that  prece- 
dents in  our  past  history  have  run  the  other  way. 
Still,  the  temptation — let  us  honestly  confess  it ! — is  too 
great  for  mortal  man ;  and  if  the  illustrious  authority 


444  THE  nation's  geief. 

of  Harrison,  now  consecrated  to  us  by  tlie  toucli  of 
deatli,  shall  be  adopted,  liis  brief  possession  of  tlie 
power  of  tlie  Executive  may  be  fruitful  of  blessings, 
which,  the  faithful  exercise  of  its  full  period  had  perhaps 
failed  to  bring  us. 

Fellow-citizens,  there  is  one  lesson  taught  us  by  this 
mournful  dispensation,  of  inestimable  value ;  the  lesson, 
that,  as  citizens  of  the  United  States,  we  all  aee  oiste. 
We  have  too  much  forgotten  it.  The  strife  of  conflict- 
ing parties  has  gone  too  far.  We  have  been  tempted 
to  lose  sight  of  the  precious  trust  committed  to  us,  as 
freemen,  by  the  great  Arbiter  of  nations,  in  om^  devo- 
tion to  the  men  or  measures,  which  are  but  instruments 
for  its  promotion.  We  had  come  to  look  upon  the  set- 
tlement of  that  greatest  question  which  ever  comes  be- 
fore us,  not  as  it  tended  to  the  national  interest  and 
honour,  but  as  it  made  for  ow  success,  and  for  the  tri- 
umph of  0U7'  party.  I  deny  not,  that  on  all  sides,  hon- 
est purposes  might  lead  to  this  result.  I  claim  not, 
that  a  measure  of  it  is  not  inseparable  from  our  free  in- 
stitutions; and,  in  moderation,  necessary  to  preserve 
their  freedom.  But  I  do  say,  that  the  evil  has  by  far 
outrun  the  good.  I  do  say,  that  the  end  has  been  lost 
sight  of  in  the  means.  I  do  say,  that  private  courtesy, 
social  regards,  and  Christian  charity  have  been  disre- 
garded, in  the  chase  for  power  and  office.  I  do  say, 
that  the  very  foundations  of  the  republic  have  been 
shaken ;  and  the  glory  clouded,  that  should  ever  rest 
upon  the  citadel  of  freedom.  God  has  reproved  us 
from  His  throne.     The  flap  of  the  death-angel's  wing 


THE  nation's  geief.  445 

lias  passed  before  all  faces.     And,  in  an  instant,  the  na- 
tion's head  has  crumbled  into  dust !     It  still  is  true — 
bad  as  the  world  is ! — it  still  is  true,  thank  God!  that 
"  sorrow  is  a  sacred  thing ! "     At  this  affecting  spectacle 
of  mortality,  hearts  soften,  eyes  are  moistened,  hands 
are  clasped.     We  own,  as  one  great  family,  the  common 
loss.     We  bend,   as  brethren  all,  beside   our  father's 
grave.     Let  us  accept  the  omen,  fellow-citizens !     Let 
us  own,  and  act  upon,  its  lesson  !     Let  us  no  more  for- 
get our  common  country,  our  common  Constitution,  our 
common  heritage  of  freedom,  and  the  warm  blood,  on 
Bunker  Hill,  at  Monmouth,and  at  Yorktown,  that  made 
it  common  to  us  all !     Honest  differences  we  must  enter- 
taiQ.     Honest  preferences  we  must  avow.     But  let  all 
differences  be  merged,  let  all  preferences  be  yielded,  in 
the  great  cause  Avhich  makes,  and  keeps  us,  freemen. 
Never  let  us  forget  the  patriot  grief,  that,  as  on  this 
day,  bows  the  hearts  of  this  whole  nation,  as  one  man. 
And,  when  the  day  of  trial  comes  again,  and  we  are 
tempted  to  forget  our  brotherhood  of  freedom,  and  the 
debt  we  owe  to  her,  who  is  the  mother  of  us  all ;  let  us 
still  hear  the  voice,  which,  from  that  patriot  grave, 
speaks  to  our  hearts,  "  Sirs,  ye  are  brethren  ;  why  do 
ye  wrong  one  to  another  ?  " 

Fellow-citizens,  have  we  not  all  felt,  was  it  in  na- 
ture not  to  feel,  that,  in  the  death  of  our  Chief  Magis- 
trate, death  has  come  near  us  all  ?  But  he  tvill  come 
nearer  yet.  He  ivill  come — when,  God  knows! — to 
me,  to  every  one  of  you.  And,  should  he  come  to-night, 
should  we  be  ready  to  go  forth  and  meet  him  ?     Ah,  my 


446  THE  nation's  geief. 

dear  bretkren,  talk  as  we  may,  and  as  we  must,  of  other 
thoughts,  and  other  themes,  this  is  the  trial  question  for 
us  all.  And  I  should  ill  become  my  office,  and  ill  ex- 
press the  love  which  wanns  my  heart  for  you,  and  ill 
discharge  the  trust  with  which  the  kindness  of  your 
honoured  representatives  has  honoured  me,  did  I  not 
bid  you,  in  my  Master's  name,  to  go,  and  make  your 
peace  with  God,  through  Jesus  Chiist  our  Lord ;  and, 
in  all  holiness  and  righteousness  of  life,  to  wait,  hence- 
forth, His  coming  and  His  kingdom ! 


n. 

A  GREAT  MAN  FALLEN  IN  ISRAEL. 

*  A  SERMON  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  PRESIDENT  TAYLOR. 

2  Samuel  hi.  38. — Know  ye  not,  that  there  is  a  prince,  and  a  great  man,  fall- 
en, this  day,  in  Israel  ? 

fc  these  expressive  words,  did  tlie  great  heart  of 
royal  David  pay  its  tribute,  to  the  valiant  Abner,  slain 
by  the  treachery  of  Joab.  There  are  few  minds,  familiar 
with  the  Holy  Scriptures,  into  which,  they  have  not 
sprung,  as  the  unbidden  comment,  on  that  astounding 
providence,  which  has  stilled  the  pulses  of  the  nation ; 
and,  to-day,  twines  every  altar,  in  the  land,  with  the 
funereal  cypress.  "  Know  ye  not '' — men  say,  to  one 
another,  as  the  lightning  record  flashes,  through  the 
land,  "  The  President  is  dead  !  "  "  know  ye  not,  that 
there  is  a  prince,  and  a  great  man,  fallen,  this  day,  in 
Israel ? " 

Death  is  the  "  touch  of  nature,"  which,  pre-eminently 
"  makes  the  world,  all  kin."  God  did  not  make  it.  It 
came  in,  with  sin.  Yet,  we  may  say,  and,  still,  be 
reverent,  that,  without  it,  as  men  have  been,  since  the 

*  At  the  request  of  the  students  of  Burlington  College ;  July,  A.  D.  1850. 


448  A   GEEAT   MAIS^   FALLEN   IN   ISEAEL. 

Fall,  He  could  not  live,  in  His  own  world.  It  is  tlie 
one  tiling,  at  whicli  natnre  quails.  The  fear  of  it  sways 
the  tumultuous  Titan  throngs,  that,  else,  would  scale  the 
Heavens.  And  the  damp  chill,  from  its  black  wing,  as 
it  sweeps  through  the  land,  when  pestilence  falls  on  it, 
like  a  frost ;  or  when,  beside  us,  but  a  neighbour  dies, 
is  the  reminder  of  our  own  mortality,  and  the  conviction 
of  His  dread  omnipotence. 

Strange  as  it  is,  the  snake's  old  sneer,  "  Ye  shall  not 
surely  die,"  still  haunts  the  human  heart.  We  con- 
stantly forget,  that,  when  we  clasj)  the  loved  one,  to 
our  heart,  we  clasp  a  skeleton.  Age,  talents,  valour, 
virtue,  rank,  pre-eminence,  in  every  age,  and  every- 
where, deck  out,  for  men,  their  idols.  We  come  to 
think,  that  greatness  cannot  die.  We  marvel,  that  the 
bolt  should  strike  the  tallest  tree.  And,  when  the 
pastor  falls,  as  that  meek  saint,*  who  fed,  for  forty  years, 
the  little  flock,  that,  then,  was  tended  here ;  or  the 
physician  dies,  as  that  old  man,f  rare  in  his  virtues,  as 
his  skill,  who,  to  three  generations,  plied  the  healing 
art,  among  you,  welcome  to  every  hearth ;  men  look, 
with  mute  amazement,  on  each  other ;  and  the  country 
startles,  that  a  mortal  should  have  died  ! 

But,  chiefly,  is  the  power  of  this  instinctive  super- 
stition shown,  when  death  strikes  down  the  princes, 
among  men.  Republicans  intuitively  feel,  that  some 
divinity  doth  "  hedge  about  a  king."  Who  did  not 
feel  a  shudder  crawl  across  his  heart,  when  that  young 

*  The  Rev.  Dr.  Wharton,  Rector  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  who  died  ia  1833. 
f  Dr.  Nathan  W.  Cole,  who  died  in  1848. 

i 


A  GKEAT   MAN   FALLEN   IN   ISRAEL.  449 

princess,  on   whom   the   hopes  of  England   hung,  all 

clustered,  sank,  with    her   infant,  in   a   grave,  which 

seemed,  to   all,  untimely  ?      When,  lately,  the    meek 

widow  of  a  king  passed,  from  the  exercise  of  all  the 

charities  of  life,  into  the  royal  tomb,  at  Windsor,  there 

were  everywhere  among  us,  the  tokens  of  a  sympathy, 

which  touched  the  heart.     And,  when,  nine  years  ago, 

oiu'  warrior  President  was  borne,  in  one  brief  month, 

from  the  high  homestead  of  the  nation,  to  the  sepulchre, 

beside  the   clear  Ohio,   what  wave,   in  the  broad  sea, 

of  our  whole  vast  Republic,  that  was  not  stirred  and 

tost,  as  when  a  water-spout  is  rent  in  sunder  ?    "  Know 

ye  not" — was  then,  as  now,  the  instinctive,  universal, 

utterance  of  the  nation's  startled  heart — "  know  ye  not, 

that  there  is  a  prince,  and  a  great  man,  fallen,  this  day, 

in  Israel ? " 

The    worshipping    assemblies,  of   twenty  millions, 

are  in  harmony,  with  us,  to-day.     From  one  end,  to  the 

other,  of  our  broad  land,  the  electric  spark  has  flashed 

its  fearful  messa2:e,  of  the  nation's  loss  :  till  North  and 

South,  and  East  and  West,  are  bending,  now,  with  us, 

over  the  new-made  grave ;  in  which,  the  soldier  of  three 

wars,  the  conqueror  in  all,  the  patriot  hero,  the  people's 

President,  rests,  irom  his  honom^s,  and  his  arms.      As, 

when  the  Egyptians  came,  with  Joseph's  corpse,  up  to 

the  threshing-floor   of   Atad,  it  is  "  a  great  and  very 

sore,  lamentation."     And,  it   may  well  be  so.     For,  in 

the  graphic  words  of  David,  a  man,  a  great  man,  and  a 

prince,  has  "  fallen  this  day,  in  Israel." 

A  man  has  fallen.    I  do  not  mean  a  mere,  male,  hu- 
voL.  IV. — 29 


450  A  GREAT   MAIS^   FALLEN   IN   ISEAEL. 

man,  individual.  One,  whom  tlie  tailor,  ratlier  than  the 
mantuamaker,  clothes.  A  walking  thing,  that  wears  a 
hat.  I  speak  of  that,  which  God  meant,  when  He  said, 
"  Let  us  make  man,  in  our  image,  after  our  likeness." 
Marred,  sadly,  now,  by  the  concussion  of  that  feai-ful 
Fall.  But,  capable  of  restoration,  through  the  Cross. 
And,  justifying  well,  in  the  renewal  of  its  fau-  propor- 
tions, and  its  countenance  erect,  the  sacred  record, 
"  God  hath  made  man  upright."  A  man,  that  has  a 
mind ;  and  uses  it.  A  man  that  has  a  heart ;. and  yields 
to  it.  A  man  that  shapes  his  circumstances.  A  man, 
that  cares  not  for  himself.  A  man,  with  the  simplicity 
of  a  child.  A  man,  with  the  directness  of  a  child.  A 
man,  mth  the  freshness  and  earnestness  of  a  child.  A 
man,  in  justice.  A  man,  in  generosity.  A  man,  in 
magnanimity.  A  man,  to  meet  emergencies.  A  man, 
to  make  occasions.  A  man,  to  dare,  not  only ;  but  to 
bear.  A  man,  of  love.  A  man,  without  a  fear.  A 
thunderbolt,  in  war.  A  dewdrop,  in  the  day  of  peace. 
One,  that,  against  the  fearful  odds,  of  five  to  one,  could 
sway  the  battle-storm,  at  Buena  Vista.  And,  then, 
from  the  very  arms  and  lap  of  victory,  wiite  to  one,* 
whose  gallant  son  had  died,  to  make  its  crown,  "  when 
I  miss  his  familiar  face,  I  can  say,  with  truth,  that  I 
feel  no  exultation,  in  our  success."  Tmly,  a  man,  has 
fallen  "  in  Israel." 

And  "  a  great  man  "  lias  fallen.  A  great  man,  first, 
must  be  a  man.  And,  then,  must  find,  or  make,  the 
occasion,  to  be  great.     In   every  man,  that  is  a  man, 

*  The  Hon.  Henry  Clay. 


A   GEE  AT   MAN   FALLEN   IN   ISEAEL.  451 

tliere  is  potentially,  a  great  man.  He,  wlio  lias  "  fallen, 
this  day,  in  Israel,"  was  great,  in  act.  His  masterly 
defence  of  Fort  Harrison,  when  but  a  captain,  in  tlie 
service,  where  the  terrors  of  impending  conflagration, 
were  added  to  the  midnight  onslaught  of  the  Indians ; 
his  successful  conduct  of  the  war,  in  Florida,  against 
the  same  subtle,  tkeless,  unrelenting  foe ;  the  gallant 
movement  to  Point  Isabel,  and  back  to  the  encampment 
at  Fort  Brown,  achieving  Palo  Alto  and  Resaca  de  la 
Palma,  as  mere  episodes,  along  the  way ;  the  storming 
and  complete  possession  of  Monterey,  where  every  street 
was  barricaded,  and  every  housetop  bristled  with 
musketry ;  the  crowning  victory,  against  such  fearful 
odds,  at  Buena  Vista ;  and,  more  than  that,  the  clear, 
calm,  quiet,  unpretending,  but  indomitable,  answer,  to 
Santa  Anna's  insolent  demand,  sustained  by  twenty 
thousand  men — "  Su^,  in  reply  to  your  note,  of  this 
date,  summoning  me  to  surrender  my  forces,  at  discre- 
tion, I  beg  leave  to  say,  that  I  decline  acceding  to  your 
request : "  these  glorious,  but  now  painful,  reminiscences 
of  the  military  career  of  him,  beside  whose  grave,  a 
nation  weeps,  assure  us,  that,  in  him,  a  great  man,  has 
been  taken,  from  our  Israel.  And,  more  illustrious, 
even,  than,  in  these,  the  greatness,  that  knew  how  to 
bear  such  victories ;  the  greatness,  that  preserved  its 
equilibrium,  in  the  storm  of  national  applause,  and 
universal  admiration  ;  the  greatness,  that  could  see  the 
l^roudest  palm  of  human  power,  planted  before  it,  Avith- 
in  easiest  reach,  and  not  put  forth  a  hand  to  pluck  it ; 
the  greatness,  that  submitted  to  be  made  the  President 


452  A   GEEAT   MAN    FALLEN"   IN   ISEAEL. 

of  these  United  States,  since  so  the  people  willed ;  tlie 
greatness,  that  went  on  to  Washington,  and  took  the 
chair  of  State,  and  filled  it,  with  the  simple  dignity, 
that  had  directed,  from  a  tent,  the  ordering  of  the  battle- 
field ;  the  greatness  of  moderation ;  the  greatness  of 
modesty;  the  greatness  of  self  conquest  and  control: 
these  do  but  wound  our  bleeding  hearts,  more  deeply, 
while  they  swell  them,  with  a  faller,  higher,  admiration 
of  the  real  greatness,  of  the  great  man,  who  has  gone 
from  us,  to-day. 

And,  in  him,  "  a  prince  "  has  fallen.  A  prince,  in 
place.  The  head,  as  the  word  simply  means,  of  twenty 
millions  of  free  people ;  so  constituted  and  declared,  by 
their  o^vn  choice  and  act.  A  prince,  in  rank.  The 
equal,  in  his  station,  of  the  kings,  and  emperors,  and 
potentates,  of  the  whole  world.  A  prince,  in  power. 
The  President  of  the  United  States,  legitimately  au- 
thorized, and  constitutionally  sustained,  in  acts  of  influ- 
ence, and  idtimate  authority,  such  as  no  sovereign  of 
Europe  has  by  any  other  right,  than  that  of  mere  brute 
force  ;  and  the  exponent  of  a  political  and  moral  sway, 
which,  in  its  growing  and  j)ervading  power,  no  mere 
brute  force  can  cope  with,  or  resist.  And,  in  his  exercise 
of  these  high  functions,  and  discharge  of  their  resulting 
duties,  a  prince,  in  quiet  dignity ;  a  prince,  in  calm, 
indomitable  resolution ;  a  prince,  in  utter  disregard  of 
consequences,  when  the  right  is  seen,  and  done.  The 
people's  prince,  in  his  unostentatious  life.  The  people's 
prince,  in  his  lamented  death.  "  Know  ye  not," — who 
does  not  know,  who  does  not  feel,  who  does  not  own, 


A   GEEAT   MAN"   FALLEjST   IN   ISEAEL.  453 

that  it  is  so  ? — "  Know  ye  not,  that  there  is  a  i3rince, 
and  a  great  man,  fallen,  this  day,  in  Israel  ?  "     "  We 
bury,  in  his  honoured  tomb,"  the  Union  says — the  jour- 
nal of  our  land,  which,  more  than  any  other,  must  be 
regarded  as  the  antagonist  of  his  administration — "  we 
bury,  in  his  honoured  tomb,  every  unkind  or  unworthy 
feeling,  which  we  might  ever  have  entertained.    General 
Taylor  rises  before  us,  in  all  the  glory  of  the  Hero,  in 
all  the  majesty  of  the  Patriot ;  whose  name  is  associated 
with  some  of  the  most  brilliant  achievements  in  our  an- 
nals, who  has  carried  the  fame  of  his  country,  to  the 
remotest  nations,  and  whose  reputation  will  never  die. 
The  name  of  the  Hero  of  Palo  Alto,  and  Buena  Vista, 
will    live,  as    long  as  the   name  of  the  nation,  whose 
standard,  he  so  often  bore  to  victoiy,  and  glory.     These 
deeds  are  indelibly  written,  on  the  tablet  of  a  nation's 
gratitude."     This  is  the  true  outspeaking  of  the  heart, 
when  its  deep  pulses  have  been  deeply  touched.     Such 
is  the  moral  conquest  of  a  man ;  wide  as  humanity,  in 
its  extent.     Such  is  the  triumph  which  a  great  man ; 
great  in  doing,  or  in  suffering,  can  achieve :  beyond  the 
lustre  of   all    arms,  beyond   the  splendor  of  all  arts. 
Such  is  the  true  and  real  glory,  of  the  princes,  among 
men  :    not,  in  ancestral    line  ;    not,  in  "  the    boast   of 
heraldry,  or  pomp  of  power ;  "  not  in  the  range  of  ter- 
ritorial empire,  or  in  the  multitude  of  joeople,  or  of 
nations,  which  they  sway :  but,  that  they  rule  in  hearts ; 
that  they  are  felt,  as  princes,  among  freemen ;  that  they 
possess  an  empire,  which  no  gold  could  purchase,  and 
no  power  compel ;  the    empire  of  the  free,  unbought. 


454  A  GEE  AT   MAN   FALLEN   IN   ISEAEL. 

unforced,  affections :  and,  tliat,  when  tliey  have  passed 
fi'om  power,  and  passed  from  life,  and  all  that  there  is 
of  them,  is  so  much  dust,  men,  that  could  know  no  fear, 
men  that  would  never  flatter,  will  stand  up,  by  the 
crumbling  handful,  that  is  left ;  and  mourn,  as  David 
mourned,  for  Abner ;  and  weep,  as  David  wept ;  and 
say,  as  David  said,  before  the  world,  and  challenge  all 
the  world,  for  the  denial :  "  Know  ye  not,  that  there  is 
a  prince,  and  a  great  man,  fallen,  this  day,  in  Israel  ?  " 

And  he  is  gone.  And  we  are  left.  Left  with  our 
duties,  among  men.  Left  with  our  responsibilities,  to 
God.  Left,  with  our  invaluable  trust,  as  patriots. 
Left,  with  our  immortal  interests,  and  our  inevitable 
obligations,  as  Christians.  This  is  no  place  for  flattery. 
This  is  no  place,  to  come,  to  praise  a  man.  This  is  no 
place,  for  the  mere  eulogy,  even,  of  the  honoured  and 
lamented  dead.  And,  could  we  forget  the  place,  if  he 
could  speak,  from  out  his  cerements,  in  the  plain,  and 
simple  sense,  which  made  him  such  a  man,  and  so 
became  him,  as  a  great  man,  he  would  bid  us  cease, 
from  him,  and  turn,  in  Christian  humility.  Christian 
dependence,  Christian  confidence,  and  Christian  devo- 
tion, to  the  trusts  and  duties,  which  he  lived  and  died, 
to  serve ;  and  which  still  lie,  on  us,  enhanced,  by  the 
example  of  his  life,  and  increased,  by  the  bereavement 
of  his  death. 

Humanly  regarded,  the  death  of  General  Taylor  is, 
to  this  republic,  an  incalculable  loss.  To  our  imperfect 
vision,  he  seemed,  pre-eminently,  the  man,  for  the  occa- 
sion.    That,  which  so  many  speak  of,  and  so  freely,  and 


A   GEE  AT   MAN   FALLEN   IN   ISEAEL.  455 

SO  often,  as  a  crisis,  lias  but  a  small  place  in  any  true 
pliilosophy.     A  crisis  is  but  one  stage,  in  a  long  train 
of  antecedents  and  of  consequents,  wMcli  go  to  make 
it  up ;  and  any  one  of  wliich  might  seem  to  be  tlie 
crisis.     Events  flow  on,  forever ;  as  tlie  Delaware  flows 
on.     The  raft,  that,  for  a  moment,  fills  your  eye,  glides 
past ;  and  is  succeeded  by  another,  and  another,  and 
another.     In  a  great  country,  such  as  ours  is,  men  may 
always    find,  or    make,  a   crisis.      It   were  better,  not. 
The    very  name    alarms.      The    alarm    deranges    and 
incapacitates.     The  motley  host,  that  cannot  lose,  make 
capital,  of  this  disturbance  of  the  general  equilibrium. 
A  wiser  judgment  deals   with  time,  and  its  results,  as 
they  roll  on ;  applies,  to  each,  the  wisdom,  that  it  calls 
for ;  finds  no  fear,  in  all  the  future ;   and,  so,  has  no 
regret,  in  all  the  past.     But,  still,  it  cannot  be  denied, 
that  we  are  fallen  on  an  age  of  rapid  progress,  and  of 
inconceivable  developement.       A  day  brings   forth  a 
nation.     The  womb  of  time  teems  now  with  struggling 
empires.     The  inventions  of  men  are  fast  annihilating 
space.      A  continent  becomes   an   isthmus.      A  pajDer 
barrier  scarcely  divides  the  Pacific,  from  the  Atlantic, 
sea.     Out  of  the  sands  of  California,  the  wonders  of 
Aladdin's  fabled  lamp  are  more  than  realized.      Men 
are    disturbed    by  golden   visions.      The  channels  of 
commerce  are  changing.     The  aspects  of  life  are  under 
transmutation.      One    knows    not,  what   new   wonder 
shall  be  born,  with  each  new  day.     An  unsettling  of 
fixed   principles,  a   conflict  of  new  interests,  a  general 
disruj^tion  and  disarrangement,  are  rapidly,  in  progress. 


456  A   GREAT   MAK   FALLEI^^   IN   ISRAEL. 

At  sucli  a  time,  a  man  of  simple  mind,  a  man  of  plain 
good  sense,  a  man  of  moderation,  a  man  of  unquestion- 
able integrity,  a  man  of  indomitable  fomness,  lias  a 
special  worth,  and  adaptation.  Tlie  people  take  to  sucb 
a  man.  They  call  bim,  "  Rougb  and  Ready."  They 
rally  round  him.  They  grow  into  him.  They  grow 
together,  in  growing  into  him.  He  binds  them  all,  in 
one ;  and  is,  what  laws  might  fail  to  be,  and  fleets  and 
armies  could  not  be,  the  bond  •of  an  imperishable  union. 
There  was  another  thing  in  General  Taylor.  He  was 
no  party  man.  He  would  not  be,  to  be  the  President. 
When  he  became  the  President,  he  would  not  be,  to 
magnify  his  office,  or  to  keep  it.  It  was  a  noble  trait, 
in  his  great  character,  that  he  disappointed  the  party 
men,  that  helped  to  put  him  into  power.  He  knew 
the  people,  and  he  knew  the  nation.  But  he  knew  no 
set,  among  the  one ;  no  fraction,  of  the  other.  This  was 
an  element  of  strength,  that  was  to  grow ;  and  that, 
more  rapidly,  with  time.  And  there  was  one  thing 
more,  in  him.  We  cannot  shut  our  eyes,  to  the 
inevitable  fact,  that  the  great  magnet  of  our  nation  has 
opposing  poles  ;  or  seems  to  have.  It  was  the  peculiar 
fitness  of  General  Taylor,  for  his  responsible  position, 
that  he  was  of  the  one ;  and,  yet,  not  against  the  other. 
The  one  could  trust  him ;  while  the  other  need  not  fear 
him.  It  seemed,  to  human  sight,  the  stronghold  of 
the  times.  And,  in  a  moment,  like  the  house,  which  a 
child  builds,  of  cards,  it  has  been  swept  away,  from  us. 
May  it  not  be,  to  teach  us  to  "  cease  from  man,  whose 
breath  is  in  his  nostrils  ?  "     May  it  not  be  our  lesson. 


A   GREAT   MAN   FALLEN   IN   ISEAEL.  457 

for  tliese  times,  tliat  "  God  seeth,  not  as  man  seetli  ?  " 
May  it  not  be  the  way,  wliicli  we  "  know  not  of,"  by 
wLicli,  God,  means  to  lead  us  ?  Has  not  tlie  death  of 
the  Chief  Magistrate  taught  us,  as  argument  couhl 
never  teach,  that  we  are  one  people  ?  Has  it  not 
touched  the  general  heart,  from  East  to  West,  from 
North  to  South,  as  children's  hearts  are  touched,  when, 
by  their  side,  a  father  falls  ?  Could  legislation,  could 
judicial  action,  could  commercial  interests,  could  any 
thing,  have  shown  so  clearly,  so  feelingly,  so  instan- 
taneously, so  universally,  that,  divided  as  we  may  be, 
or  may  think  we  are,  we  are  but  one,  in  heart  ?  And, 
may  there  not  proceed,  from  that  new  gi'ave,  in  which 
the  funeral  rites  of  twenty  millions  garner  up,  to-day, 
the  ashes  of  our  patriot-soldier,  an  influence,  which 
knitting  all  our  hearts  together,  as  true  brethren,  of  one 
blood,  shall  pervade  our  national  councils,  and  control 
our  national  actions,  and  mould  our  national  interests ; 
and,  with  God  to  bless  us,  as  the  answer  to  our  peni- 
tent and  faithful  prayers,  set  up  this  nation,  in  the  eyes 
of  all  mankind,  as  the  light  and  joy  of  all  the  lands : 
shedding,  on  all,  the  mild  and  genial  radiance  of  free 
institutions  ;  and  spreading,  among  all,  the  blessings  and 
the  benefits  of  Christian  Freedom ;  the  freedom,  which, 
can  only  dwell  with  truth  and  peace  ;  the  freedom  of 
the  freemen  of  the  Lord !  That  it  may  be  so,  it 
becomes  us  to  receive,  with  an  unhesitating  confidence, 
the  distinguished  Statesman,  who  sits,  now,  in  General 
Taylor's  seat.  By  the  immediate  act  of  God,  he  is  the 
President  of    the  United  States.      Eeceiving  him,  at 


458  A   GEEAT   MA-N   FALLEN   IN   ISEAEL. 

God's  liand,  let  us  receive  liim,  witli  a  generous  trust. 
Let  us  resolve,  to  give  hiin  our  support ;  tlie  support  of 
our  sympathy ;  the  support  of  our  confidence,  the  support 
of  our  co-operation,  the  support  of  our  prayers.  Let  us 
commend  him,  and  the  counsellors,  that  are  to  share,  with 
him,  the  cares  and  toil  of  State,  to  the  favour,  the  guid- 
ance, the  protection,  of  Almighty  God.  Let  us  renew 
our  vows,  to-day,  to  the  admirable  Constitution,  which 
our  Fathers  vindicated,  for  us,  with  their  blood.  Let  us 
renew  our  vows,  to-day,  to  the  glorious  Union,  which  their 
blood  cemented,  sealed,  and  consecrated.  On  our  knees, 
let  us  join  hands,  here,  in  God's  house,  upon  God's  day, 
with  the  great  multitude  of  Christian  Freemen,  whom 
the  day's  solemnities  have  knit  in  one.  On  our  knees, 
let  us  join  hearts,  with  them,  here,  in  God's  house,  upon 
God's  day ;  and  pour,  from  souls,  which  soitow  softens, 
and  which  grace  subdues,  the  Christian  Patriot's  prayer, 
"that  peace  and  happiness,  truth  and  justice,  religion  and 
piety,  may  be  established,  among  us,  for  all  generations." 
Nor,  let  us  lose  the  lesson,  which,  as  men,  and  sin- 
ners, this  startling  and  afflictive  providence  is  so  well 
adapted  to  convey.  How  can  we  clasp  our  darlings,  to 
our  hearts,  and  not  remember,  how  a  moment  may 
resolve  them  into  dust,  and  leave  us  desolate  !  How 
can  we  lie  down  on  our  beds,  this  night,  and  not 
remember,  that  the  morning  light  may  find  us,  gar- 
nished, for  the  grave.     The  prayer,*  which  asks  from 

*  PASTORAL  LETTER  TO  THE  CLERGY  OF  THE  DIOCESE  OF  NEW  JERSEY. 

Dear  and  Reverend  Brethren  : — Regarding  the  death  of  President  Taylor, 

as  a  great  national  calamity,  and  our  whole  nation  as  one  afBicted  family,  I  do  not 

hesitate  to  request,  that,  on  Sunday  next,  the  seventh  after  Trinity,  you  will  use 


A   GEEAT   MAN    FALLEN   IN   ISEAEL.  459 

God,  for  tlie  bereaved  of  tliis  day,  the  strengtli  and 
comfort  of  His  grace,  will  be  the  commendation  of  our 
darlings  to  the  favor  of  His  love.  And,  the  deej)  peni- 
tence, which  such  a  death  should  waken  in  our"  hearts, 
so  sudden,  so  startling,  so  aj^palling,  will  bring  us  to 
the  Cross,  where  none  can  perish,  through  the  Lamb, 
Who  died  for  all.  To  Whom,  one  with  the  Father, 
and  the  Holy  Spirit,  three  Persons,  and  one  only  God, 
shall  ever  be  ascribed,  the  glory  and  the  praise. 

the  Prayer  which  follows,  before  the  two  final  Prayers  of  Morning  and  Evening 
Service.  We  shall  do  well  to  humble  ourselves,  under  the  chastening  hand  of 
Almighty  God ;  and  to  beseech  Him,  for  His  dear  Son's  sake,  to  pardon  our  mani- 
fold transgressions,  and  turn  away  His  anger  from  us,  lest  we  perish.  If  prosperity 
have  hardened  the  national  heart ;  if  we  have  been  tempted  to  forget  God  our 
Saviour ;  in  whatever  way  we  have  oifended  Him,  who  holds  the  nations  in  His 
hands,  this  signal  Providence  should  be  improved  by  us,  in  that  humility  of  spirit, 
and  with  that  consecration  of  heart  and  life,  which  become  us,  as  ransomed  sin- 
ners, and  with  which,  alone,  we  can  come  acceptably  before  Him,  through  the 
propitiation  of  the  Cross.  Upon  our  hearts,  thus  softened  and  subdued.  He  will 
send  down  the  blessings,  and  the  comforts  of  His  grace,  and  restore  to  us.  His 
pardoning  and  preserving  love.  Commending  the  bereaved  household,  of  our  late 
venerable  Chief  Magistrate,  the  honoured  successor  to  him,  in  the  highest  trust 
which  men  bestow,  his  associates,  in  the  several  departments  of  the  government, 
and  the  whole  appalled  and  mourning  nation,  to  your  fiiithful  prayers,  and  to  the 
mercy  and  favour  of  God,  I  am,  affectionately,  and  faithfully,  your  brother  and 
servant  in  Christ,  George  W.  Doane, 

Bishop  of  New  Jersey. 
Riverside,  July  19,  1850 

PE  A  TEE. 
0  Merciful  God,  and  Heavenly  Father,  who  hast  taught  us,  in  Thy  holy  Word, 
that  Thou  dost  not  willingly  afflict  or  grieve  the  children  of  men  ;  Look  with  pity, 
we  beseech  Thee,  upon  the  sorrows  of  Thy  servants.  In  Thy  wisdom,  thou  hast 
seen  fit  to  visit  us  with  trouble,  and  to  bring  distress  upon  us.  Remember  us,  0 
Lord,  in  mercy ;  sanctify  Thy  fatherly  correction  to  us  ;  endue  our  souls  with  pa- 
tience under  our  affliction,  and  with  resignation  to  Thy  blessed  will ;  comfort  us 
with  a  sense  of  Thy  goodness ;  lift  up  Thy' countenance  upon  us,  and  give  us 
peace  ;  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.     Amen. 


III. 

DANIEL  WEBSTER'S  REAL  GLORY. 

*  A  SERMON  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  DxVNIEL  WEBSTER. 


Jeremiah  ix.  23,  24. — Thus  saith  the  Lord,  Let  not  the  wise  man  glory  in  his 
wisdom,  neither  let  the  mighty  man  glory  in  his  might,  let  not  the  rich  man  glory 
in  his  riches  :  but  let  him  that  glorieth  glory  in  this  ;  that  he  understandeth  and 
knoweth  me,  that  I  am  the  Lord,  which  exercise  loving  kindness,  judgment,  and 
righteousness  in  the  earth,  for  in  these  things  I  delight,  saith  the  Lord. 


The  meaning  of  God's  word  is  never  so  well  devel- 
oped, as  when  His  Providence  is  its  interpreter.  Wlien, 
from  some  solemn  text  He  preaclies  in  some  awful  judg- 
ment— at  once,  its  exposition  and  its  aj)plication — tlie 
nations  shrink  and  quail :  like  startled  reapers,  when, 
without  a  cloud  in  heaven,  the  thunder  bursts,  at  noon ; 
and  leaps,  from  crag,  to  crag,  till  Alps  or  Andes  seem  to 
topple,  to  their  fall.  I  have  meditated  much,  for  many 
years,  upon  this  text  of  Jeremiah ;  and  have  heard  fre- 
quent sermons  from  it :  but  I  never  felt  its  fulness  until 
now ;  and  it  never  preached  to  me,  as  in  the  death  of 
Daniel  Webster.  "  Let  not  the  wise  man  glory  in  his 
wisdom,  neither  let  the  mighty  man  glory  in  his  might ; 
let  not  the  rich  man  glory  in  his  riches  :  but  let  him 

*  At  the  request  of  the  students  of  Burlington  College,  November,  A.  D.  1852. 


DANIEL  Webster's  eeal  glory.  461 

tliat  glorietli  glory  in  this  ;  tliat  lie  nuderstandetli  and 
knowetli  me,  tliat  I  am  tlie  Lord." 

In  Daniel  Webster,  all  tlie  stimulants  to  human 
glory,  of  which  the  Prophet  warns  us,  were  singularly 
blended.  He  was  a  rich  man ;  he  was  a  wise  man ;  he 
was  a  mighty  man.  In  which  of  them,  had  he  the 
slightest  ground  for  glorying  ?  And  in  which  of  them, 
was  his  reliance  at  the  moment  when  he  left  them  all  ? 

I  do  not  mean  that  Daniel  Webster  ever  was,  or 
ever  could  have  been,  what  men  call  rich.  He  had  no 
sense  of  money,  but  its  use.  He  was  born  and  reared  in 
honourable  poverty.  His  youth  was  dignified  by  dili- 
gence. His  early  manhood  struggled  into  confidence 
and  comfort.  But  long  before  mid-life,  he  had,  m  his 
distinction  at  the  l)ar,  what  Dr.  Johnson  called  "  the  po- 
tentiality of  growing  rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  ava- 
rice." It  is  not  probable  that  any  American  la^vyer 
has  ever  commanded  a  larger  income.  It  was  greater, 
doubtless,  in  some  years  than  the  income  of  the  Presi- 
dent. A  single  fee  has  been  fifteen  thousand  dollars. 
And  had  he  sought  his  own,  and  bound  himself  to  his 
profession,  there  is  no  limit  to  be  set  to  its  vast  earnings. 
But  his  country  claimed  him  for  her  councils,  and 
he  gave  himself  to  her  unstinted  service.  And  if  the 
grateful  people,  among  whom  his  children  were  all  cra- 
dled, supplied  in  some  degree  to  him,  the  utter  sacrifice 
of  personal  regards  which  his  absorption  in  the  national 
interests  demanded,  it  was  their  willing  tribute  to  the 
devotion  and  ability,  which  wealth  could  not  have 
bought.     And  with  his  constant  access,  to  whatever  is 


462  DANIEL  Webster's  eeal  gloey. 

most  genial  and  attractive,  in  tlie  social  intercourse  of 
life,  and  with  his  keen  perception  of  the  beautiful  in 
nature  and  in  art,  and  chiefly  in  the  unrestrained  enjoy- 
ment of  his  home  at  Marshfield, — 

"  The  warbling  woodland,  the  resounding  shore, 
The  pomp  of  groves  and  garniture  of  fields. 
All  that  the  genial  ray  of  morning  gilds, 
And  all  that  echoes  to  the  song  of  even. 

All  that  the  mountain's  sheltering  bosom  shields, 
And  all  the  dread  magnificence  of  Heaven  " — 

he  was,  in  every  truest  sense  and  for  all  actual  uses, 
rich. 

That  he  was  a  wise  man,  every  tongue  admits.  In 
all  the  ranges  of  professional  distinction,  as  a  lawyer, 
and  especially,  in  that  which  he  himself  almost  cre- 
ated, constitutional  law ;  in  all  the  vast  variety  of  sub- 
jects, with  w^hich  a  practice  of  such  range  must  make 
him  conversant,  in  science,  in  the  arts,  in  history,  in 
commerce,  in  navigation,  in  finance,  in  all  the  phases 
of  philosophy,  and  most  of  all  in  man ;  in  widest,  lofti- 
est, noblest,  most  controlling  statesmanship ;  and,  though 
the  pastime  only  of  his  hours  of  recreation,  in  most  suc- 
cessful agriculture,  scientific  that  it  might  be  practical, 
and  practical  because  truly  scientific,  he  had  attained  a 
wisdom  unsurpassed.  The  country  leaned  upon  him : 
and  his  presence  in  our  councils  gave  confidence  to  Eu- 
rope, and  the  world.  I  was  in  England  not  long  after 
him :  and  everywhere  he  was  the  theme  of  the  profound- 
est  admiration.  Scarcely  their  own  Wellington  equalled, 
in  English  minds,  the  measure  of  our  Webster. 


DANIEL  Webster's  eeal  gloey.  463 

And  was  lie  not  a  miglity  man  ?  Was  lie  not  our 
miglity  man  ?  When  Washington  and  Hamilton  have 
been  passed  by,  was  he  not  our  mightiest  man  ?  Who 
else  could  draw  such  thousands?  Who  else  could 
wield  them  so  ?  Who  else,  like  him,  "  the  applause  of 
listenino;  Senates"  could  "command?"  His  maiden 
speech  in  Congress,  before  he  was  a  Senator,  won  from 
so  great  a  man  as  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  the  prophetic 
judgment,  that  he  "  would  become  one  of  the  very  first 
statesmen  in  America;  and  perhaps  the  very  first." 
And  he  went  on  from  that,  the  eloquent  orator  that  was 
always  equal  to  the  greatest  occasion ;  holding  the  high- 
est place  before  the  highest  courts ;  and  honoured  by 
his  distinguished  Southern  contemporary  Mr.  Lowndes, 
by  the  declaration,  that  for  parliamentary  power,  "  the 
North  had  not  his  equal,  nor  the  South  his  superior  ! " 
On  Plymouth  Eock,  at  the  foot  of  Bunker  Hill,  within 
the  walls  of  Faneuil  Hall,  he  lifted  up  a  voice  which 
filled  the  land,  which  all  the  languages  of  Europe  echo 
back,  which  will  forever  live  among  the  household 
words  of  men,  while  Shakspeare's  tongue  and  Milton's 
shall  be  spoken.  In  the  Dartmouth  College  case,  in 
which  the  tears  of  the  Chief  Justice  mingled  with  those 
of  the  audience,  in  the  great  question  of  the  steamboat 
monopoly  by  the  State  of  New  York,  and  in  the  matter 
of  the  will  of  Stephen  Girard,  he  reached  the  very  high- 
est summit  of  forensic  reputation.  His  conflict  with 
Colonel  Hayne  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  his 
admirable  discussion  of  all  the  great  financial  questions 
of  the  times,  and  his  nullifying  of  nullification,  are  un- 


464  DANIEL  Webster's  real  glory. 

surpassed  in  power,  in  all  tlie  legislative  bodies  of  the 
world.  While  in  Ms  settlement  of  the  North-eastern 
Boundary,  to  name  no  other  of  his  diplomatic  triumphs, 
he  achieved  a  breadth  and  height  of  influence,  at  home 
not  only,  l^ut  in  Great  Britain,  which  no  one  man  has 
ever  yet  possessed.  And  yet  this  mightiest  man  in  all 
the  spheres  of  public  life,  was  mightiest,  in  private  and 
at  home.  I  can  bear  witness,  from  my  personal  knowl- 
edge, to  what  has  been  well  said  by  one  of  his  imme- 
diate friends.  "  Upon  a  near  approach  to  most  great 
men,  they  dwindle  to  the  size  of  common  men.  Their 
greatness  is  only  seen  on  sj)ecial  occasions,  and  after 
much  preparation.  But  he,  though  familiar  and  frank 
as  a  child,  though  never  attempting  to  display  his  su- 
periority, appeared  greatest  in  his  most  familiar  and 
careless  conversation.  It  may  be  said  of  him,  as  travel- 
lers say,  of  the  Pyi'amids,  that  one  can  only  appreciate 
their  full  size,  when  standing  at  their  base." 

Rich,  wise  and  mighty,  as  our  Webster  was,  what 
ground  was  there  in  this  for  glorifying  ?  It  was  not 
his,  in  origin.  It  was  not  his,  without  responsibility. 
It  was  not  his,  to  keep.  The  Lord  but  lent  it  to  him. 
He  was  held  to  strict  account  for  it.  His  longest  lease 
of  it  could  only  be  for  life.  Can  a  man  glory  iii  that 
which  is  another's  ?  Can  a  man  glory  in  that  which,  in 
a  moment,  may  be  his  to  use  no  more  ?  Thus  saith  the 
Lord,  "  Let  not  the  wise  man  glory  in  his  msdom,  nei- 
ther let  the  mighty  man  glory  in  his  might,  let  not  the 
rich  man  glory  in  his  riches :  but  let  him  that  glorieth, 
glory  in  this :  that  he  understandeth  and  knoweth  me, 


DANIEL  Webster's  eeal  glory.  465 

that  I  am  tlie  Lord  which  exercise  loving  kindness, 
judgment  and  righteousness  in  the  earth,  for  in  these 
things  I  delight,  saith  the  Lord." 

And  how  was  it  with  Daniel  Webster,  when  he 
came  to  leave  his  riches,  and  his  wisdom,  and  his  might  ? 
In  which  of  them,  had  he  the  heart  to  glory  ?  And 
how  much  in  all  of  them?  Let  us  seek  answers  to 
these  questions  in  the  testimonies  of  them,  with  whom 
he  lived,  and  in  his  living  and  his  dying  words.  "  I 
never  met  with  an  individual,"  said  one,  who  knew 
him  well,  "  who  always  spoke  and  always  thought,  with 
such  awful  reverence,  of  the  power  and  presence  of  God. 
No  irreverence,  no  lightness,  no  too  familiar  allusion  to 
God  and  His  attributes,  ever  escaped  his  lips.  The  very 
notion  of  a  Supreme  Being  was,  with  him,  made  up  of 
awe  and  solemnity.  It  filled  the  whole  of  his  great 
mind  with  the  strongest  emotions."  It  was  his  habit 
on  the  Lord's  Day,  to  read  the  Scriptures  and  conduct 
the  worship  of  his  household :  and  when  another  did  it, 
for  him,  he  desired  that  the  Gospel  story  should  be 
read,  which  records  that  beautiful  expression  of  the  af- 
flicted father,  "  Lord,  I  believe,  help  Thou  my  unbelief : " 
and  with  it  the  last  words  of  our  Saviour  to  His  disci- 
ples; with  special  reference  to  these  words,  "Holy 
Father,  keep  through  Thine  own  Name  those  whom 
Thou  hast  given  me,  that  they  may  be  one,  as  We  are." 
In  an  address  commemorative  of  his  old  friend  Jeremiah 
Mason,  he  said,  "Political  eminence  and  professional 
fame  fade  away  and  die,  with  all  things  earthly.  Noth- 
ing of  character  is  really  permanent,  but  virtue  and 

VOL.  IV. — 30 


466  DANIEL  webstek's  keal  gloey. 

personal  worth.  These  remain.  Whatever  of  excel- 
lence is  wrought  into  the  soul,  belongs  to  both  worlds. 
Real  goodness  does  not  attach  itself  merely  to  this  life : 
it  points  to  another  world.  Political  or  professional 
reputation  cannot  last  forever,  but  a  conscience  void  of 
offence  before  God  and  man  is  an  inheritance  for  eter- 
nity. Religion,  therefore,  is  a  necessary  and  indispen- 
sable element,  in  any  great  human  character.  There  is 
no  living  without  it.  Religion  is  the  tie,  that  connects 
man  with  his  Creator,  and  holds  him  to  His  throne.  If 
that  tie  be  all  sundered,  all  broken,  he  floats  away,  a 
worthless  atom  in  the  universe,  its  proper  attractions  all 
gone,  its  destiny  thwarted,  and  its  whole  fatui'e  nothing 
but  darkness,  desolation  and  death.  A  man,  with  no 
sense  of  religious  duty  is  he,  whom  the  Scriptures  de- 
scribe, in  such  terse  but  terrific  language,  as  living 
'without  God  in  the  world.'  Such  a  man  is  out  of 
his  j^roper  being,  out  of  the  cii'cle  of  all  his  duties, 
out  of  the  circle  of  all  his  happiness ;  and  away,  far,  far 
away,  from  the  purposes  of  his  creation."  Could  words 
enforce  more  urgently  than  these,  the  precepts  of  the 
text  ?  "  Let  not  the  wise  man  glory  in  his  wisdom, 
neither  let  the  mighty  man  glory  in  his  might ;  let  not  the 
rich  man  glory  in  his  riches :  but  let  him  that  glorieth 
glory  in  this ;  that  he  understandeth  and  knoweth  Me 
that  I. am  the  Lord."  Late  in  his  life  Mr.  Webster  was 
confirmed  :  and  for  many  years,  with  Clay  and  Berrien 
and  Winthrop,  a  communicant  at  Trinity  Church  in 
Washington.  To  one  who  ministered  in  holy  things, 
he  said,  in  his  emphatic  way,  "  When  I  attend  upon 


DANIEL  Webster's  real  glory.  467 

the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  I  wish  to  have  it  made  a 
personal  matter,  3^,  personal  matter^  a  personal  matter." 
In  perfect  harmony  with  this,  the  voice  which  issues 
from  his  death-bed.  During  the  last  three  days,  he 
spoke  to  many  persons,  to  the  clerks  of  the  State  De- 
partment, to  the  business  people  that  were  about  him, 
to  the  working  people  on  his  farm  and  in  his  family ; 
all  with  solemnity  and  simplicity,  as  was  his  nature ; 
and  as  became  a  dying  Christian.  On  the  last  evening 
of  his  mortal  life  he  took  leave  of  the  female  members  of 
his  family,  and  of  the  male,  and  of  his  near  friends,  in  the 
appropriate  language  of  Christian  consolation,  "  What 
would  be  the  condition  of  any  of  us,"  he  said :  "  with- 
out the  hope  of  immortality  ?  What  is  there  to  rest 
that  hope  on,  but  the  Gospel  ? "  Soon  after  this,  as 
if  to  himself,  he  said,  "  On  the  24th  of  October  all  that 
is  mortal  of  Daniel  Webster  will  be  no  more."  And 
then  he  prayed,  with  voice  distinct  and  clear :  conclud- 
ing with  these  words  :  "  Heavenly  Father,  forgive  my 
sins  and  receive  me  to  Thyself,  through  Jesus  Christ." 
Surely  the  very  words  of  that  poor  Publican,  of  whom 
the  Saviour  spoke ;  when  he  had  come  to  know  the 
Lord.  Towards  morning,  when  his  physician  had  said, 
to  encourage  him  in  his  last  struggle,  those  divine  words 
of  David,  "  Though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the 
shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil ;  for  Thou  art  with 
me.  Thy  rod  and  Thy  staff,  they  comfort  me :"  he  in- 
stantly replied,  "  The  fact,  the  fact."  "  That  is  what  I 
want.  Thy  rod.  Thy  rod!  Thy  staff,  Thy  staff!" 
He  spoke  only  once  more.     Waking  from  a  deep  sleep, 


468  DANIEL    WEBSTEK's    HEAL   GLOKY. 

lie  said,  "  I  still  live."  And  after  that,  as  if  he  held  the 
guiding  rod  of  the  good  Shepherd,  and  was  leaning  on 
His  staff,  died  tranquilly  away. 

I  have  not  aimed,  in  what  has  now  been  said,  to 
sketch  the  life  of  Daniel  Webster,  and  much  less  to  pro- 
nounce his  eulogy.  That  has  been  done  already,  by 
unnumbered  voices :  and  is  yet  to  be  done,  more  fully 
and  more  faithfully,  by  others.  Moved  to  this  act  of 
love,  by  an  affectionate  and  dutifal  request  from  the  stu- 
dents of  this  College,  that  I  would  preach  a  Sermon,  on 
the  death  of  him,  who  has  been  justly  called  "  The  De- 
fender of  the  Constitution,"  I  cheerfully  consented  in 
the  discharge  of  that  great  trust  which  I  have  under- 
taken, to  train  them  up  as  men  of  Jesus  Christ ;  and  Pat- 
riots of  the  Constitution.  If  it  has  seemed  to  you,  dear 
brethren,  that  the  special  lesson,  which,  the  death  of 
Daniel  Webster  teaches,  is  that  which  we  receive  from 
God,  by  Jeremiah,  in  the  text ;  you  have  not  vainly  heard 
what  I  have  said  this  morning;  nor  I,  unprofitably 
spoken  it.  It  is  a  simple  and  solemn  thought,  and  I 
prefer  to  leave  it  with  you  in  its  simplicity  and  solem- 
nity. "  Let  not  the  wise  man  glory  in  his  wisdom,  nei- 
ther let  the  mighty  man  glory  in  his  might ;  let  not  the 
rich  man  glory  in  his  riches :  but  let  him  that  glorieth 
glory  in  this ;  that  he  understandeth  and  knoweth  Me, 
that  I  am  the  Lord,  which  exercise  loving  kindness, 
judgment  and  righteousness  in  the  earth ;  for  in  these 
things  I  delight,  saith  the  Lord." 

A  word  or  two,  in  more  immediate  relation  to  the 
young  men  to  whom  I  have  alluded,  on  whom  so  many 


DANIEL    WEBSTEK's    EEAL   GLORY.  469 

eyes  are  fixed,  in  wliom  so  many  hearts  are  garnered, 
and  I  have  well-nigh  done  what  I  proposed.  The  little 
delicate  boy  of  the  New  Hampshire  hills,  whose  father's 
dwelling,  till  a  little  while  before  his  birth,  was  a  log 
cabin  ;  who  was  sent  to  school,  "  that  he  might  get  to 
know  as  much  as  the  other  boys ; "  whose  early  training 
was  in  a  log  school-house,  by  a  man  that  could  not 
spell ;  who,  in  his  boyhood,  could  not  for  his  life  get  up 
the  courage  for  a  declamation ;  who  taught  a  school, 
and  copied  deeds  in  the  office  of  the  County  Register, 
that  he  might  help  his  brother  through  the  College,  and 
procure  the  means  of  his  own  professional  education ; 
who,  when  he  went  to  study  Law,  borrowed  the  Black- 
stone  which  he  could  not  buy ;  how  came  he  to  be,  what 
Mr.  Choate  has  said,  "  by  universal  designation,  the 
leader  of  the  general  American  bar  ? "  How  came  he  to 
stand  among  the  orators,  with  Cicero  and  with  Demos- 
thenes ?  How  came  he,  with  Alexander  Hamilton,  on 
that  second  level  to  George  Washington,  as  "  the  De- 
fender of  the  Constitution  ?  "  which,  if  his  great  heart 
had  been  opened  as  they  cruelly  dissevered  his  great 
head,  would  have  been  found  written  there  1     How 

came  his 

"  Among  the  few,  the  immortal  names 
That  were  not  born  to  die  ?  " 

Attend  to  me,  young  men,  my  children,  for  Christ's 
sake,  and  our  country's,  and  I  will  tell  you,  in  the  words 
of  one  who  was  in  College,  with  him.  "  Daniel  Webster, 
while  in  College,  was  remarkable  for  his  steady  habits, 
his  intense  application  to  study,  and  his  punctual  at- 


470  DANIEL  Webster's  real  glory. 

tendance  npon  all  tlie  prescribed  exercises.  I  know  not 
that  lie  was  absent  from  a  recitation,  or  from  morning 
and  evening  prayers  in  the  Chapel,  or  from  public  wor- 
ship ;  and  I  doubt  if  ever  a  smile  was  seen  upon  his  face, 
during  any  religious  exercise.  He  was  always  in  his 
place ;  and  with  a  decorum  suited  to  it.  He  had  no  col- 
lision with  any  one,  nor  appeared  to  enter  into  the  con- 
cerns of  others,  but,  emphatically  minded  his  own  busi- 
ness. As  steady  as  the  sun,  he  pursued  with  intense 
application  the  great  object,  for  which  he  came  to  Col- 
lege." Such  is  the  testimony  of  the  Eev.  Dr.  Shuiileif. 
I  do  not  leave  out  of  the  account,  his  singular  natural 
gifts,  and  still  less  do  I  forget,  that,  without  the  blessing 
of  Almighty  God,  no  good  can  come  of  any  thing.  But 
I  do  most  conscientiously  believe,  on  the  experience,  as 
a  teacher  of  young  men,  of  four  and  thii'ty  years,  that 
the  Salisbury  boy  became  the  man  of  Marshfield,  the 
man  of  Massachusetts,  and  the  man  of  men,  by  the 
transmitted  virtue  of  an  industrious,  self  denying,  well- 
ordered  and  religious  youth.  "  The  boy  was  father  of 
the  man." 

Beloved,  God's  doings  with  our  land,  of  late,  have 
certainly  been  strange.  Three  years  ago,  and  we  could 
boast  three  stars,  that  would  have  fixed  the  eyes  of  men, 
amid  the  constellated  skies  of  Pericles,  or  of  Elizabeth. 
Calhoun  sleeps  proudly  now  among  his  own  palmettos. 
The  faneral  track  of  Clay  to  his  beloved  Ashland,  is 
green,  still,  with  the  nation's  tears.  And  now  we  have 
laid  Webster  in  his  own  new  tomb  :  the  rock  to  guard 
his  rest ;  the  ocean  sound  his  dirge.     Is  it  to  punish  us 


DANIEL  Webster's  real  glory.  4T1 

for  om^  ingratitude  and  disobedience  ?  Is  it  to  teacli  us 
to  cease  from  man,  whose  breath  is  in  Ms  nostrils  ? 
Is  it  to  preacli  to  us,  from  Jeremiah  and  from  Paul, 
"  He  that  glorieth,  let  him  glory  in  the  Lord  ? "  God 
of  our  fathers,  and  our  own  God,  may  we  learn  Thy  les- 
son in  its  time.  May  we  confess  with  grateful  hearts, 
the  nation's  debt,  and  ours  !  May  we  deplore  with  sighs 
and  tears,  the  nation's  sins  and  ours.  May  we  implore 
anew,  the  dear  redemption  of  the  Cross.  And  own 
anew,  its  consecration  and  its  power.  Not  long  before, 
we,  one  by  one,  shall  stand  where  Webster  stood,  upon 
the  verge  of  that  vast  valley  ;  into  which,  the  tribes  of 
men,  like  autumn  leaves,  go  down.  Not  long  before, 
we,  one  by  one,  shall  feel  what  Webster  felt,  its  loneli- 
ness and  helplessness,  and  own  the  want  of  guidance 
and  support.  Then  be  it  ours,  to  own  "  the  fact,  the 
fact :  " — the  only  fact  we  then  shall  need  to  own  ;  The 
Saviour  died  for  me !  Then  be  it  ours,  to  feel  the  only 
stay,  that  then  can  bear  us  up,  the  Cross  on  which  He 
died.     "  Thy  Eod,  Thy  Kod— Thy  Staff,  Thy  Staff." 

"  Thy  Eod,  Thy  Staff,  O  gracious  God,  have  stayed 

The  rod,  that  stayed  the  nation  from  its  fall : 

And  in  Thy  life,  the  man  whom  Thou  hast  made, 

Still  lives  ;  and  is  more  living:  than  we  all !  " 


SERMON  I. 
ANCIENT    CHAKITT. 

*  THE  RULE  AND  THE  REPROOF  OF  MODERN. 

2  Corinthians  viii.  1-5. — Moreover,  brethren,  we  do  you  to  wit  of  the  grace 
of  God  bestowed  on  the  churches  of  Macedonia  ;  how  that  in  a  great  trial  of  afflic- 
tion, the  abundance  of  their  joy  and  their  deep  poverty  abounded  unto  the  riches 
of  their  liberality.  For  to  their  power,  I  bear  record,  yea,  and  beyond  their 
power,  they  were  willing  of  themselves  ;  praying  us  with  much  entreaty  that  we 
■would  receive  the  gift,  and  take  upon  us  the  fellowship  of  the  ministering  to  the 
saints.  And  this  they  did,  not  as  we  hoped,  but  first  gave  their  own  selves  to  the 
Lord,  and  unto  us,  by  the  will  of  God. 

1  Corinthians  xvi.  1-3. — Now,  concerning  the  collection  for  the  saints,  as  I 
have  given  order  to  the  churches  of  Galatia,  even  so  do  ye.  Upon  the  first  day 
of  the  week,  let  every  one  of  you  lay  by  him  in  store,  as  God  hath  prospered  him, 
that  there  be  no  gatherings  when  I  come.  And  when  I  come,  whomsoever  ye 
shall  approve  by  your  letters,  them  will  I  send  to  bring  your  liberaUty  unto  Jeru- 
salem. 

The  Apostle  Paul  seems  to  have  entertained  a  very 
poor  opinion  of  what  men  call  "  a  charitable  collection." 
Once  in  a  great  while — ^lie  must  have  had  a  breast-plate 
on  of  triple  brass,  who  first  proposed  "  a  quarterly  col- 

*  Preached  in  A.  D.  1833.  This  sermon  has  been  universally  quoted;  has 
passed  through  several  editions ;  and  been  reprinted  in  Scotland.  It  is  the  full 
statement  of  a  plan  which  my  Father  urged  with  great  earnestness  and  great 
succe&s^  in  various  ways.  An  extract  from  a  pastoral  letter,  in  A.  D.  1841,  is 
given  below. 

A  PASTORAL  LETTER,  TO  THE  CLERGY  AND  LAITY  OF  THE  DIOCESE  OP 

NEW  JERSEY,  IN  BEHALF  OF  SYSTEMATIC  CHARITY, 

Dearly  Beloved  Brethren, — You  will  bear  me  witness,  that,  from  the  time 

that  the  Holy  Ghost  made  me  your  overseer,  I  have  not  ceased  to  "stir  up  your 

pure  minds,  by  way  of  remembrance,"  as  to  the  Christian  privilege  of  contributing 


ANCIENT   CHAEITY.  473 

lection,"  in  a  modern  city  Cliurcli ! — a  notice,  worded 
with  tlie  utmost  skill,  that  none  may  take  offence,  is 
tremulously  read,  that,  on  a  given  day,  their  condescend- 
ing bounty  will  be  asked,  for  the  Lord's  poor,  or  for 
His    Church.     The    newspapers,  in    the  same  column 

of  your  substance  for  the  extension  of  the  Gospel  in  the  Church.  Nor  can  I 
withhold  the  acknowledgment  of  your  prompt  response  to  my  appeals.  At  the 
Convention  of  the  diocese,  in  1833,  the  first  time  in  which  I  participated  with  you 
in  our  great  trust  for  "  the  common  salvation,"  the  amount  of  contributions  re- 
ported for  Missionary  purposes,  within  the  diocese,  was  less  than  one  hundred  and 
thirty  dollars  ($128  37).  By  the  adoption  of  the  plan  oi  Systematic  Charity,  then 
recommended  in  the  Episcopal  Address,  and  known  as  the  Offerings  of  the 
Church,  the  aggregate  receipts  of  eight  years,  to  the  27th  of  May  last,  have  been 
$11,714  77  :  being  an  annual  average  of  $1464  34;  (or  more  than  eleven  times 
the  revenue  of  the  year  last  preceding;)  while  "the  Offerings,"  in  one  instance, 
have  risen,  in  a  single  year,  (1837,)  as  high  as  $1814  45.  *****  Such 
has  been  the  result  of  God's  blessing  on  the  means  of  His  own  appointment,  within 
the  portion  of  His  vineyard  where  our  lot  is  cast.         ***** 

You  have  seen  the  amount  which  has  been  contributed,  as  "  the  Offerings  of 
the  Church  ; "  and  the  results,  which,  under  God's  blessing,  have  been  accom- 
plished by  it.  Not  one  of  you,  I  boldly  say,  has  ever  been  the  poorer  for  his 
share  of  it ;  or  felt  the  slightest  inconvenience  from  his  contribution.  Meanwhile, 
the  increase  of  the  number  of  the  parishes,  and  the  increase  of  the  parishes  sev- 
erally, have  greatly  added  to  the  number  of  proper  contributors  to  this  treasury 
of  the  Lord.  When  the  plan  was  laid  before  you,  in  1833,  the  Scriptural  warrant 
for  it  was  given  to  you,  in  those  words  of  St.  Paul,  to  the  Corinthians,  "  Now, 
concerning  the  collection  for  the  saints,  as  I  have  given  order  to  the  Churches  of 
Galatia,  even  so  do  ye.  Upon  the  first  day  of  the  week  let  every  one  of  you  lay 
by  him  in  store,  as  God  hath  prospered  him,  that  there  be  no  gatherings  when  I 
come."  The  proposition  was,  that  the  sums,  thus  laid  by  "  in  store,"  should  be 
brought  to  the  Church,  on  the  Sunday  of  the  administration  of  the  Holy  Com- 
munion, and  placed  on  the  Holy  Table,  with  the  alms,  and  other  oblations  of  the 
people.  What  I  have  now  to  propose — and  what  I  confidently  believe,  if  faith- 
fully carried  out,  will  be  blessed  of  God,  to  the  full  and  constant  supply  of  our 
Missionary  Treasury — is,  that,  instead  of  monthly,  or  at  rarer  intervals,  "the  Of- 
ferings OF  the  Church  "  be  made  every  Lord's  day,  in  connection  with  the  Offer- 
tory, as  appointed  in  the  Communion  Service. 

i.  This  was  the  primitive  mode. 

ii.  This  is  the  simplest  and  most  direct  address  that  can  he  made  to  the  pa- 
rishioners. 

iil.  This  is  the  Church's  proper  action,  in  her  due  organization,  under  the  direc- 
tion of  her  ministers,  on  the  call  of  her  divine  Head. 

This  plan  combines  many  advantages. 
1.  Its  frequency  is  an  advantage.     The  contribution  can  never  be  forgotten. 


474  AlSrCIENT   CHAEITY. 

witli  tlie  sale  of  stocks,  and  some  new  dancing-girl, 
diviner  tlian  tlie  last,  announce,  in  tallest  capitals, 
that  that  incongruous  individual,  the  popular  preacher 
of  the  day — as  if  the  truth  were  ever  popular,  since 
Jesus  Christ  was  crucified,  and  Stephen  stoned,  for 
speaking  it — will  patronize,  for  that  night  only,  with 
his  peculiar  eloquence,  the  cause  of  such  and  such  a 

2.  Its  constancy  is  an  adrantage.  The  supply  from  it  will  be  perpetual  and 
sure.     There  is  nothing  to  be  trusted  like  a  habit. 

3.  Its  simplicity  is  an  advantage.  It  is  intelligible  to  every  one,  and  will  com- 
mend itself  even  to  little  children. 

4.  Its  moderation  is  an  advantage.  Returning  frequently,  it,  of  course,  calls, 
at  each  time,  for  comparatively  little.  Thus,  it  meets  the  convenience  of  all.  "  If 
thou  hast  much,  give  plenteously ;  if  thou  hast  little,  do  thy  diligence  gladly  to 
give  of  that  little." 

5.  Its  incxpejisiveness  is  an  advantage.  It  will  cost  nothing  for  agencies,  and 
be  encumbered  with  no  officers. 

6.  Its  sobriety  is  an  advantage.  It  makes  no  exciting  appeals  ;  and  creates  no 
heat,  to  be  followed  by  a  more  than  corresponding  coldness.  It  is  the  oozing  of 
the  water  from  the  rock  that  fills  the  springs.  It  is  the  gentle  dropping  of  the 
dew  that  clothes  the  vales  with  verdure. 

What  are  its  disadvantages? 

1.  It  is  disagreeable  to  he  asked  so  often  to  contribute. — As  if  the  Lord's 
Prayer  did  not  ask  every  day  for  "  daily  bread  !  " 

2.  It  is  disagreeable  to  make  the  collection  so  frequently. — As  if  it  were  not 
better  to  be  "  a  door-keeper  in  the  house  of  the  Lord,  than  to  dwell  in  the  tents 
of  the  ungodly  !  " 

3.  It  is  disagreeable  to  connect  the  giving  of  money  with  the  worship  of  the 
Sanctuary. — As  if  there  were  any  surer  test  of  a  heart  given  up  to  God  !  As  if 
the  Sanctuary  itself  could  be  built  or  sustained,  without  money !  As  if  the  oflfer- 
iugs,  by  God's  own  appointment,  were  not  formerly  brought  to  His  own  holy  Tem- 
ple !     As  if  the  silver  and  the  gold  were  not  all  His  ! 

4.  It  is  disagreeable  to  be  detained  so  long. — As  if  five  minutes,  occupied  in 
hearing  sentences  from  Holy  Scripture,  and  in  prayer,  were  to  be  esteemed  a 
hardship,  for  a  soul  that  looks  to  an  eternity  of  worship  ! 

Brethren,  dearly  beloved  in  the  Lord,  I  have  but  little  more  to  say.  I  need 
say  but  little  more.  My  office  compels  me  to  acquaint  myself  with  the  destitution 
of  the  Saviour's  "sheep,  that  are  scattered  abroad  in  the  midst  of  this  naughty 
world."  I  have  only  you  to  look  to,  for  the  means  by  which  they  may  be  gathered 
to  his  fold,  and  "saved  through  Christ  forever."  If  I  seem  importunate  to  any 
of  you,  it  is  that  you  may  secure  that  precious  privilege,  of  which  he  hath  said, 
"  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive."    You  will  pardon  me  this  wrong. 


ANCIENT   CHAEITY.  475 

charity.  By  one  means  and  another, — the  itching  ear, 
the  patronage  of  fashion,  the  clulness  of  the  one  night 
in  a  week,  that  offers  neither  fashionable  entertainment 
nor  scientific  lecture — what  is  significantly  called  "  a 
full  house "  is  secured.  The  utmost  stretch  of  logic, 
and  of  rhetoric,  is  brought  to  bear  upon  the  topic  of 
the  night ;  which  is,  by  clearest  demonstration,  shown 
to  be  the  one  absorbing  charity  of  the  whole  age.  And 
they  who  came  to  hear,  and  to  be  seen,  the  amusement 
of  the  evening  done,  deposit,  without  a  prayer,  it  must 
be  feared — ^perhaps,  without  a  thought — the  smallest 
coin  they  happen  to  have  with  them ;  and  go  home,  to 
scold,  that  charitable  collections  come  so  often,  and 
their  reckless  minister  will  beggar  all  his  congregation  ! 
For  one  whole  year,  at  least,  that  subject  is  tabooed 
throughout  the  parish :  and  no  other,  be  it  what  it 
may,  must  be  proposed,  or  thought  of,  until  the  last 
collection  shall  begin  to  be  forgotten.  Nothing  like 
this,  would  the  Apostle  tolerate  in  the  Corinthian 
Church.  He  strictly  and  explicitly  forbids  it — "  that 
there  be  no  gatherings^  when  I  come  !  " 

A  puny  faith  begets  a  sickly  charity.  In  nothing, 
is  the  faith  of  our  day  set  in  stronger  contrast  with  the 
faith  of  the  first  Christians,  than  in  this,  its  most  imme- 
diate and  essential  fruit.  And,  if  we  might  presume  to 
look  into  the  judgment  scroll,  we  should  be  taught  by 
its  inevitable  record,  that  Christian  faces  will,  at  noth- 
ing, "  gather  "  darker  "  blackness,"  than  at  the  dispro- 
portion of  their  alms-deeds  to  theii'  duty,  and  their 
power.      Oh,  with   what   dread   confusion   will   their 


476  ANCIENT   CHAEITY. 

hearts  be  filled,  who  sought  "  their  own,"  and  pleased 
themselves,  and  grasped  their  gold,  till  it  oozed  out 
between  their  fingers,  when  He  who  sits  upon  the 
throne  shall  meekly  vindicate,  before  admiring  angels, 
and  a  self-doomed  world,  those  words  of  His,  which 
they  derided,  as  romantic   and  unmeaning,  It  is  moee 

BLESSED  TO  GIVE  THAN  TO  RECEIVE  ! 

You  are  accustomed,  my  dear  brethren,  for  the  con- 
firmation of  your  faith,  your  discipline,  yom*  worship, 
to  go  back  to  the  first  ages,  and  to  find  your  pattern 
there.  Are  you  as  ready  to  go  back  to  them,  to  learn 
the  rule  and  practice  of  true  charity ;  and  follow  their 
example,  who,  having  first  given  "  their  ownselves  to 
the  Lord,"  "  to  their  power,"  "  not  only,  but  beyond 
their  power,"  "  were  willing  of  themselves  ?  "  It  is  to 
the  beautiful  picture  of  their  habitual  self-sacrifice  for 
Christ,  that  I  would  now  du'ect  your  contemplation ; 
beseeching  God  to  send  His  Holy  Ghost,  and  pour  into 
our  hearts  that  best  of  gifts,  "  without  which,  whosoever 
liveth,"  does  but  seem  to  men  to  live,  since,  in  God's 
sight,  he  is  "  accounted  dead." 

I  wish  to  establish,  first,  the  justice  of  this  trial  of 
the  faith  and  charity  of  Christians,  in  all  ages,  by  the 
comparison  with  theirs,  who  fij'st  believed  in  Christ. 
The  Gospel  is  the  revelation  of  the  perfect  will  of  God, 
made,  once  for  all,  to  all  mankind.  It  has  but  one 
rule,  then,  for  every  place,  and  for  all  ages ;  changing 
not,  even  as  in  Him  there  is  "  no  variableness,  neither 
shadow  of  turning."  Nor  is  it  only  with  the  iTile,  that 
we  are  furnished :    but  with  that  which,  to  the  just 


ANCIENT   CHARITY.  477 

interpretation  of  a  law,  is  most  essential,  the  record  of 
the  practice  under  it ;  and  that,  too,  by  an  inspired  pen. 
We    have  their  teaching  then,  not    only,  who,  in  the 
Apostle's    language,  had  "  the    mind   of   Christ ;  "  but 
their  habitual  daily  life,  who  were  so  taught.     Surely, 
if  St.  Paul  could  say  of  the  old  record,  to  believers  in 
his    day,  "  whatsoever    things  were  written  aforetime 
were  written  for  our  learning,"  we  may  feel,  who  have 
the  Gospels,  and  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  and  their 
letters,  that  we  are  "  furnished  "  "  thoroughly  "  "  to  all 
good  works."      Surely,  if  we  fail,  as  to  the  standard 
which  should  regulate  our  lives,  it  is  against  the  clear- 
est light  and  fullest  knowledge ;  and  "  every  mouth  is 
stopped  "  before  the  Lord.    "  Now  I  beseech  you,  breth- 
ren," says  the  Apostle,  "  by  the  name  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  that  ye  all  speak  the  same  thing,  and  that  there 
be  no  divisions  among  you,  but  that  ye  be  perfectly 
joined  together  in  the  same  mind  and  in  the  same  judg- 
ment."    And  again,  "  let  us,  therefore,  as  many  as  be 
perfect,  be  thus  minded ;  and  if  in  any  thing  ye  be  other- 
wise  minded,  God   shall   reveal   even   this   unto   you. 
Nevertheless,  whereto  we  have  already  attained,  let  us 
walk  by  the  same  rule,  let  us  mind  the  same  thing. 
Brethren,  be  followers  together  of  me,  and  mark  them 
which  walk,  so  as  ye  have  us  for  an  example." 

Nothing  can  be  so  beautiful,  on  this  side  of  Heaven, 
as  the  record  of  the  first  days  of  the  Church.  The 
preaching  of  the  Gospel,  by  the  mouth  of  the  Apostle 
Peter,  prevailed,  through  the  mighty  power  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  with   many  hearts.       "Then    they  that 


478  ANCIENT   CHARITY. 

gladly  received  his  word  were  baptized :  and  the  same 
day  there  were  added  unto  them  about  three  thousand 
souls.  And  they  continued  steadfastly  iu  the  Apostles' 
doctrine  and  fellowship,  and  in  breaking  of  bread  and 
in  prayers."  "  And  all  that  believed  were  together, 
and  had  all  things  common ;  and  sold  their  possessions 
and  goods,  and  parted  them  to  all  men,  as  every  man 
had  need.  And  they,  continuing  daily  with  one  accord 
in  the  temple,  and  breaking  bread  from  house  to  house, 
did  eat  their  meat  with  gladness,  and  singleness  of 
heart,  praising  God,  and  having  favour  with  all  the 
people.  And  the  Lord  added  to  the  Church  daily  such 
as  should  be  saved."  Was  there  a  lovelier  picture  ever 
drawn  ?  It  was  but  fifty  days,  since  Jesus  hung,  a 
bleeding  spectacle,  between  the  earth  and  heaven.  Of 
all  the  multitude  that  gazed  upon  that  mournful  scene, 
was  there  a  hand  to  succour,  or  a  heart  to  sympathize  ? 
When  the  black  deed  was  done,  and  the  poor  victim 
was  beyond  their  reach,  nature's  "  compunctious  visit- 
ings"  did  vindicate  the  power  of  conscience;  as, 
"  beholding  the  things  which  w^ere  done,  they  smote 
their  breasts,  and  returned."  But  now  the  tmth  has 
triumphed.  The  Apostle  Peter  has  proclaimed  the 
doctrine  of  the  Ceoss.  Jesus,  "lifted  up  from  the 
earth,"  asserts  His  matchless  power,  to  draw  men  to 
Himself.  The  Holy  Spirit  lends  Plis  gracious  unction, 
to  subdue  the  soul.  They  are  convinced  of  sin.  They 
are  softened  into  penitence.  They  are  "  pricked  in  the 
heart."  They  yield  themselves  unto  the  Lord.  It  is  a 
free  and  perfect  self-surrender ;  and  it  carries  with  it  all 


ANCIENT   CHARITY.  479 

they  are,  and  all  they  have.  They  are  baptized  into 
His  name.  They  continue  steadfast  in  its  profession. 
They  are  daily  in  the  temple.  They  count  nothing  that 
they  have  their  own.*     They  sell  their  possessions,  and 

*  It  is  to  the  latter  part  of  the  fourth  chapter  of  that  most  wondrous  of  all 
records,  the  book  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  that  allusion  here  is  made.  "  And 
the  multitude  of  them  that  believed  were  of  one  heart  and  of  one  soul :  neither 
said  any  of  them  that  aught  of  the  things  which  he  possessed  was  his  own  ;  but 
they  had  all  things  common.  And  with  great  power  gave  the  Apostles  witness  of 
the  resurrection  of  the  Lord  Jesus  :  and  great  grace  was  upon  them  all.  Neither 
was  there  any  among  them  that  lacked  :  for  as  many  as  were  possessors  of  lands 
or  houses,  sold  them,  and  brought  the  prices  of  the  things  that  were  sold,  and 
laid  them  down  at  the  Apostles'  feet :  and  distribution  was  made  unto  every  man, 
according  as  he  had  need."  32-35. — I  am  well  aware  that  the  word-catchers  will 
be  all  down  upon  me,  with  the  clause  in  italics,  in  the  way  of  a  reductio  ad  ab- 
surdum ;  as  if  it  proved  too  much :  and  I  shall  be  told  of  the  extravagance, 
absurdity,  fanaticism  of  such  suggestions ;  and  shall  have  quoted  at  me  the  Ana- 
baptists, and  the  Shakers,  and  the  Mormons,  and  perhaps  the  new  "Community," 
at  Roxbury.  It  were  enough  to  say,  "thus  it  is  written:"  and  whoever  they 
may  be  that  live  and  act  in  the  spirit  of  the  first  days  of  the  Gospel,  whatever  be 
their  deviation  from  the  faith  and  order  of  the  Church,  it  becomes  us  rather  to 
admire  their  charity,  than  to  reproach  their  folhes  or  their  faults.  Shame  on  us, 
who  have  "the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints,"  if  it  work  not  "by  love;" 
who  do  continue  "steadfastly  in  the  Apostles'"  "fellowship,"  without  their 
charity ! 

But  let  us  look  a  little  into  this  matter  of  having  "  all  things  common."  "What 
was  the  fact  at  that  time  ?  And  what  is  its  appUcation  to  our  own  ?  There  is  no 
evidence  at  all,  that  what  is  usually  understood  as  "  a  community  of  property," 
existed  among  the  first  Christians.  The  community  was  in  use,  not  in  possession. 
No  man  called  any  thing  his  own,  so  as  to  exclude  his  poorer  brother  from  its 
needful  enjoyment.  That  all  did  not  sell  their  property,  and  cast  it  into  a  com- 
mon stock,  is  evident,  from  the  fact  that  rich  and  poor  are  everywhere  recognized, 
in  the  Acts  and  in  the  Epistles.  Tabitha  was  full  of  alms-deeds  ;  of  course  done 
to  the  poor.  Acts  ix.  36.  The  disciples  at  Antioch  were  of  different  degrees  of 
ability,  xi.  29.  St.  Paul,  at  Miletus,  exhorts  the  strong  to  "support  the  weak;" 
XX.  35 ;  he  orders  the  Galatian  and  the  Corinthian  Churches  to  make  a  "  collec- 
tion for  the  saints  ;  "  1  Corinthians  xvi.  1 ;  and  exhorts  the  Ephesian  Christians 
"to  give  to  him  that  needeth,"  Ephesians  iv.  28.  And  St.  James  speaks  of  one 
Christian  "  with  a  gold  ring,  in  goodly  apparel,"  and  of  another,  "  a  poor  man,  in 
vile  raiment."  That  whoever  did  so,  might  not  have  done  so,  and  yet  have  done 
no  wrong,  is  evident  from  what  St.  Peter  said  to  Ananias,  "  AVhile  it  remained 
was  it  not  thine  own  ?  And  after  it  was  sold  was  it  not  in  thine  own  power  ?  " 
Acts  V.  4.  "  These  words  here.  Acts  ii.  44,  and  iv.  32,"  says  Dr.  Whitby,  in  loco, 
"  do  not  signify  that  they  had  no  longer  any  property  in  what  belonged  to  them, 
for  then  they  could  not  sell  them  afterwards  ;  but  that  they  used  and  disposed  of 


480  ANCIENT   CHAEITY. 

goods,  and  j)art  them  to  all  men,  according  as  every 
man  lias  need.  Steadfast  faith,  fervent  piety,  universal, 
charity :  who  can  wonder  that  such  a  Church  should 
draw  the  world  into  itself ! 

Nor  was  it  only  at  Jerusalem  that  it  was  so.  The 
clusters  of  the  living  Vine  are  all  one  fruit.  The  faith 
which  saves,  works  everywhere  "  by  love."  When 
Joses,  known  afterwards  as  Barnabas,  a  Cypriot,  and  a 
Levite,  became  a  convert  to  the  Cross,  he  sold  his  land, 
and  laid  the  price  at  the  Apostles'  feet.  When  Saul 
had  looked  on  Jesus  whom  he  persecuted,  he  counted 
no  longer  even  his  life  dear  unto  himself.  And,  in  the 
text,  he  tells  us,  that  the  Macedonian  Christians,  having 
first  given  "  their  ownselves  to  the  Lord,"  kept  nothing 
back,  but  from  that  time,  "  beyond  their  power,  were 

them  as  things  common,  freely  imparting  of  them  to  all  that  had  need."  "  The 
Scriptures  are  sometimes  quoted,"  says  Dr.  Burton,  "as  representing  the  first 
Christians  to  have  had  a  community  of  goods ;  but  Mosheim  has  satisfactorily 
shown  {Dissertaliones  ad  Historiam  Ecclesiasticum  pcrlinentes,)  that  this,  in  the 
literal  sense  of  the  expression,  was  not  the  case.  In  the  simple  language  of  Scrip- 
ture, the  believers  were  of  one  heart  and  one  soul;  they  were  brothers  not  merely 
in  name  :  and  they  looked  upon  their  goods,  not  as  exclusively  their  own,  but  as 
a  store  from  which  something  might  be  spared  to  succour  those  who  were  in  need. 
Some  of  them  did  literally  sell  their  property,  not  perhaps  the  whole  of  it,  (for 
that  would  have  made  them  dependent  in  future  upon  pubUc  charity,)  but  they 
converted  a  part  of  it  into  money,  and  made  a  common  stock,  which  the  Apostles 
distributed  to  the  poor."  Lectures  on  the  Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  first  three 
centuries,  I.  54,  55.  "  Every  man  selling  that  which  he  had  unmovable,"  says 
Dr.  Hammond,  "so  that  he  might  be  ready  to  distribute  to  any;  nay,  that  he 
might  not  trust  himself  in  the  distribution,  bringing  it,  and  laying  it  at  the  Apos- 
tles' feet,  that  they  might  distribute  it  most  impartially,  and  so  approving  them- 
selves to  be  a  people  of  free-will  offerings,  in  the  day  of  Christ's  power."  (Psalm 
i.  10.)  Annotations  on  the  Acts,  ii.  44. — So  that  the  thirty-eighth  of  the  Articles 
expresses  well  the  precedents  and  precepts  of  the  primitive  Church,  and  the  duty 
of  Churchmen  in  all  ages,  when  it  declares  that  "  the  riches  and  goods  of  Chris- 
tians are  not  common,  as  touching  the  right,  title  and  possession  of  the  same,  as 
certain  Anabaptists  do  falsely  boast.  Notwithstanding,  every  man  ought  of  such 
things  as  he  possesseth  liberally  to  give  alms  to  the  poor,  according  to  his  abiUty." 


ANCIENT   CHAEITY.  481 

willing  of  themselves."  It  must  be  so.  Tlie  controversy 
of  tlie  Gospel  is  between  self  and  Christ.  Until  self  is 
conquered,  nothing  is  accomplished.  "  Ye  are  not  your 
own,  for  ye  are  bought  with  a  price,"  is  the  first  lesson 
in  the  Christian  school.  How  can  it  be  otherwise  ? 
When  did  love  ever  seek  its  own  ?  What  is  there  that 
true  love  keeps  back  from  the  beloved  ?  When  is  its 
perfect  work  accomplished,  but  when  it  feels  itself 
absorbed  and  lost  in  him  ?  These  are  familiar  truths, 
dear  brethren,  trite  conclusions.  You  feel  them  in  your 
heart.  Youi*  daily  life  acknowledges  them.  They  are 
instinctive  to  your  social  nature.  The  struggle  to 
resist  them  is  the  warfare  which  embitters  all  your  life. 
The  single  weapon,  that  gives  promise  of  the  victory,  is 
the  Cross  of  Christ.  Never,  until  they  are  nailed  to  it, 
and  crucified,  and  killed,  can  any  soul  have  peace  with 
itself,  and  peace  with  God.  "  He  that  loveth  not 
knoweth  not  God ;  for  God  is  love." 

The  case  of  the  Macedonian  Christians  teems  with 
instruction  for  us  all.  The  first  reception  of  the  Gos- 
pel was  visited  everywhere  with  persecution.  Saint 
was  synonymous  with  sufferer.  Hence,  they  made  com- 
mon cause  ;  "  neither  said  any  of  them,  that  aught  of 
the  things  which  he  possessed  was  his."  Wherever 
the  storm  raged  highest,  love  was  the  most  lavish  of  its 
treasures.  Distance  made  no  difference.  The  "  one 
faith  "  made  for  all  "  one  heart."  At  this  time,  the 
poor  Christians  at  Jerusalem  were  the  objects  of  especial 
interest.  The  Apostle's  tender  heart  yearned  to  his 
brethren    of  the  flesh,  now   brethren    of    the    faith: 

VOL.  IV. — 31 


482  AJSTCLENT   CHAEITY. 

and,  writing  to  tlie  Cliurcli  at  Corintli,  lie  pleads  tlieir 
cause  witli  all  his  o^vn  inimitable  eloquence.  He  writes 
from  Macedonia.  Compared  with  tliat  at  Corintli,  the 
Churches  in  this  province,  at  Philippi,  at  Thessalonica, 
at  Berea,  were  poor  in  this  world's  goods.  But  they 
were  "  rich  in  faith."  He  holds  them  up,  therefore,  as 
an  ensample  to  their  richer  brethren,  "  to  provoke  them 
to  good  works."  It  was  no  new  case  that  he  presented. 
A  year  before,  he  had  addressed  them  on  this  subject; 
"  now,  concerning  the  collection  for  the  saints,  as  I  have 
given  order  to  the  Churches  of  Galatia,  even  so  do  ye." 
But  though  he  had  supplied  the  most  minute  directions, 
they  had  not  discharged  the  duty.  Perhaps,  from  the 
dissensions,  which  he  reproves  so  sternly  in  his  first 
epistle ;  for  how  can  hatred  dwell  with  love  ?  Perhaps 
their  very  riches  were  the  hindrance ;  for,  alas  !  the 
rich  in  this  world's  goods  are  far  from  being  foremost, 
to  pity  and  relieve  the  poor.  Now  hrethren^  his  address 
to  the  Corinthians  is,  toe  make  hnoivn  to  yon*  the  grace 
of  God,  which  is  given  to  the  Churches  of  Macedonia  / 
that,  in  a  trial  of  great  affliction,  the  overfloicing  of  their 
joy,  notioithstanding  their  deep  poverty,  hath  overflowed 
in  the  riches  of  their  liberality.  For  according  to  their 
power,  {I  hear  ivitness  ;)  nay,  heyond  their  power,  they 
were  willing  of  themselves  /  praying  with  much  entreaty 
that  we  would  receive  the  gift  and felloiv ship  of  the  m/in- 
istry  to  the  saints.  And  this,  even  beyond  our  hope  j^for 
first  they  gave  themselves  to  the  Lord,  and  then  to  us,  by 

*  "  We  do  you  to  wit ; "  we  make  you  to  know, 
f  "  Not  as  we  hoped  "  only ;  but  far  beyond  it. 


ANCIENT  CHAKITY.  483 

the  will  of  God.    In  wHcli  connection,  brethren,  I  would 
have  yoii  observe : 

1.  That  a  charitable  disposition  is  the  gift  of  God — 
"  the  grace  of  God  hestoioed  on  the  Churches  " — who 
sends  His  Holy  Ghost,  and  pours  into  all  hearts,  that 
will  receive  it,  "  that  most  excellent  gift  of  charity ;  " 

2.  That  it  is  a  source  of  pure  and  rich  enjoyment 
to  its  possessor,  "  the  abundance  of  their  joy,"  the 
Apostle  calls  it — "  twice  blessed,"  in  the  phrase  of  our 
great  Poet ; 

3.  That  its  exercise,  where  it  exists,  in  not  repressed 
by  poverty,  not  even  "  deep  poverty,^''  "  in  a  great  trial  of 
affliction ; " 

4.  That  it  waits  not  to  be  asked,  but  is  "  willing  of 
itself;'' 

5.  That  its  tendency  is  always  to  exceed,  rather  than 
to  fall  short,  of  the  true  measure  of  ability,  overflowing, 
in  the  riches  of  its  liberality,  oiot  only  "  according  to  "  its 
power ^  hut  "  heyond  "  its  ^'' power  ;  " 

6.  That  it  counts  the  opportunity  of  exercise  a  favour 
done  to  it,  ''''praying  us^  ivith  much  entreaty^  that  we 
would  receive  the  gift  /  " 

7.  That  this  will  only  be  so  when  the  heart  has  been 
surrendered,  as  "  a  living  sacrifice,"  and  then  will  always 
be,  first  giving  "  their  ownselves  to  the  Lord^  and  "  then 
"  to  usj  by  the  will  of  GodT 

Dear  brethren,  be  persuaded  to  make  trial  of  your- 
selves, and  your  condition  before  God,  by  the  ensample, 
written  for  your  learning,  of  the  Macedonian  Churchmen. 
Oh,  how  many,  weighed  in  this  true  "  balance  of  the 


484  AI^CLENT   CHAEITY. 

sanctuary,"  must  be  found  wanting !  Witli  tlieir 
abounding  and  abiding  happiness,  wlio  find  themselves 
reflected  in  this  Scripture  portrait  of  a  primitive  Chris- 
tian, how  poor  and  mean,  in  the  comparison,  whatever 
else  the  world  can  give,  and  misname  pleasure  ! 

And  now,  suppose  that,  as  the  gift  of  God,  His 
choicest  gift  in  Jesus  Christ,  His  Son,  this  charitable 
disposition  is  possessed ;  still,  it  will  need  directions  for 
its  exercise,  and  rules  for  its  control.  The  same  inspired 
pen,  which  has  pourtrayed  the  one  so  well,  supplies  the 
other.  Noio  concerning  the  collection  for  tlie  saints^  as 
ITiave  given  order"*  to  the  Churches  in  Galatia^  so  do 
ye :  on  the  first  day  of  the  wee\  let  every  one  of  you  lay 
somewhat  hy  itself  according  as  he  may  have  prospered, 
putting  it  into  the  treasury ;  that  when  I  come.,  there 
may  he  then  no  collections.     Here  we  have — 

i.  The  injunction  of  the  duty ; "  let  every  one  of  you  I " 
Men  greatly  err  in  thinking  themselves  free  to  give,  or 
not  to  give.  They  may  refuse  indeed :  but,  if  they  do, 
they  sin.  All  that  we  have,  as  all  that  we  are,  is  God's. 
We  are  trustees  for  Him.  Our  trial  is  to  use  our  trust, 
"  as  not  abusing  it ;  "  remembering  the  account. 

ii.  The  due  proportion  of  our  gifts ;  according  as  toe 
may  ham  prospered :  "  each  man  according  to  his  several 
ability."  A  reasonable  rule,  since  our  ability  and  our 
prosperity  proceed  from  God ;  to  whom  the  gift  is  to  be 

*  "  He  saith  not,  '  I  have  advised,'  and  '  I  have  counselled  ; '  but  I  have  given 
order,  which  is  more  authoritative.  And  he  doth  not  bring  forward  a  single  city 
or  two,  or  three,  but  an  entire  nation :  which  also  he  doth  in  his  doctrinal  instruc- 
tions. Even  as  also  in  all  the  Churches  of  the  saints.  For  if  this  be  potent  for 
conviction  of  doctrines,  much  more  for  imitation  of  actions." — St.  Chrysostom. 


ANCIENT   CHARITY.  485 

made,  wlietlier  His  Clmrcli  receive  it,  or  His  poor.  An 
easy  rule,  since  as  St.  Chrysostom  batli  said,  "  tlie  gather- 
ing by  little  and  little  liinders  all  perception  of  tlie  bur- 
den and  tlie  cost."*  A  certain  rule,  since  He  wlio  lias 
imposed  it,  sees  tlie  hand,  and  reads  tlie  heart,  and 
knows  if  we  do  justly. 

iii.  The  time  of  giving ;  on  the  first  day  of  the  week : 
when  the  week's  work  is  done,  and  its  result  is  known ;  f 
when  the  calm  quiet  of  the  sacred  day  disposes  to  self- 
examination  and  reflection ;  when,  if  there  be  a  heart, 
it  must  be  swelled,  till  the  hand  open,  in  the  grateful 
sense  of  the  rich  mercies  of  redeeming  love. 

iv.  The  mode  of  giving ;  laying  somewhat  apart : 
separating  God's  share  for  Him,  making  it  secure  to  His 
service,  and  putting  it  into  His  treasury ;  %  with  humble 

*  When  the  aggregate  amount  of  the  Offerings  for  the  year,  in  St.  Mary's 
Church,  Burlington,  has  been  stated,  it  has  been  a  common  remark,  "  How  can  it 
be  so  much  ?    We  have  none  of  us  felt  it ! 

f  Some  of  those  who  will  object  to  every  thing  have  said,  we  cannot  know 
exactly,  at  the  end  of  the  week,  how  we  have  prospered.  As  if  this  were  not 
against  all  giving.     The  safe  rule  is,  be  sure  to  give  enough. 

\  The  exposition  here  differs,  with  great  reverence,  from  the  Received  Version. 
Macknight's  translation  is,  "  On  the  first  day  of  every  week,  let  each  of  you  lay 
somewhat  by  itself,  according  as  he  may  have  prospered,  putting  it  into  the  treas- 
ury, that  when  I  come  there  may  be  then  no  collections."  Hammond's  para- 
phrase is,  "On  the  day  of  the  Christian  assembly,  it  is  not  reasonable  for  any  to 
come  to  the  Lord  empty  ;  (see  Exodus  xxiii.  15,  and  Deuteronomy  xvi.  IG  ;)  and 
therefore  at  such  a  time,  upon  such  a  special  occasion  as  this,  let  every  one  lay 
aside  whatsoever  by  God's  blessing  comes  in  to  him,  by  way  of  increase,  so  that 
there  may  be  a  full  collection  made,  without  any  more  gatherings  when  I  come." 
The  sufficient  warrant  for  this  explanation  is  Justin  Martyr's  account  of  the  ob- 
servance of  the  Lord's  day,  in  his  time,  (A.  D.  140.)—"  Upon  the  day  called  Sun- 
day, there  is  an  assembly  together,  in  one  place,  of  all  that  live  in  city  and  in 
country  ;■  and  the  writings  of  the  Apostles  and  of  the  Prophets  are  read,  as  time 
permits.  And  the  Reader  having  ceased,  the  officiating  Priest,  in  a  sermon,  makes 
an  admonition  and  exhortation  to  the  practice  of  these  good  works.  Then  we 
rise  together,  and  pray.  And  when  we  have  ceased  to  pray,  as  I  said  before, 
bread  is  offered,  with  wine  and  water ;  and  the  officiating  Priest,  in  like  manner, 


486  ANCIENT   CHAEITY. 

prayers  tliat  He  will  take  and  bless  it  to  His  glory,  and 
the  good  of  men. 

It  was  to  meet  this  appointment  of  the  Apostle,  and 
on  the  sufficient  warrant  of  its  authority,  that  the  Offer- 
tory was  instituted.  In  the  first  ages  of  the  Church,  the 
commemoration  of  the  Cross,  in  its  appointed  sacrament, 
was  made,  at  least,  on  every  Lord's  day.  Ancient  j^iety 
could  not  be  called  too  often  to  remember  the  death  of 
the  atoning  Lamb.  Ancient  faith  could  not  receive  too 
frequently  that  blessed  blood  and  body,  which  are  the 
"  di^ink  indeed  "  and  "  meat  indeed  "  of  the  immortal 
soul.  And  ancient  charity,  while  it  felt  all  its  own  un- 
worthiness  of  so  great  mercies,  and  remembered  to 
what  suffering  multitudes,  lying  in  darkness  and  death's 
shadow,  these  mercies  of  redemption  were  unknown, 
would  not  come  empty-handed  to  "such  a  heavenly  feast." 
Hence,  at  the  administration  of  the  Holy  Supper,  on  the 
Holy  Hay,  the  oblations  of  the  faithful  were  presented. 
"  Upon  the  first  day  of  every  week,"  each  one  of  them 
laid  somewhat  by  itself,  according  as  he  had  been  pros- 
pered, putting  it  into  the  treasury.  The  sum  of  all  these 
sacred  contributions  was  "  laid  at  the  Apostles'  feet ;  and 
distribution  was  made  to  every  man,  according  as  he 
had  need."    While  this  was  so,  there  was  no  lack  in  the 

offers  prayers  and  thanksgivings,  with  utmost  earnestness,  and  the  people  respond, 
saying.  Amen.  Then  there  is  a  distribution  of  the  eucharistic  offering,  and  a  par- 
ticipation of  it  by  all  that  are  present,  and  to  the  absent,  it  is  sent  by  the  Dea- 
cons. Those  who  are  able  and  willing,  each  according  to  his  disposition,  freely 
give  :  and  the  contribution  is  deposited  with  the  officiating  Priest,  who,  from  this, 
ministers  to  the  relief  of  orphans  and  widows,  and  of  those  who  from  sickness  or 
other  cause  are  in  want,  and  of  those  who  are  in  bonds,  and  of  strangers  who 
come  from  far ;  in  a  word,  he  is  the  guardian  of  whoever  are  in  need." — First 
Apologij  for  the  Ckrutians^ 


ANCIENT   CHAKITY.  487 

Lord's  treasury.    In  tlie  midst  of  prejudice,  against  every 
form  of  opposition,  in  spite  of  utmost  persecution  by  im- 
perial power,  tlie  Cliurcli  went  conquering  on,  till  it  had 
filled  the  world,  and  bowed  the  Roman  eagle  to  the  Cross. 
And,  now,  behold    the  contrast!     At  the  end  of 
eighteen  hundred  years,  the  name  of  Christianity  pro- 
fessed by  millions  where  then  there  were  but  hundreds, 
and  persecution  an  unknown,  and  almost  an  impractica- 
ble thing,  the  treasury  of  the  Lord,  so  far  as  it  depends 
on  man,  is  bankrupt ;  fields  are  lying  white  in  eveiy  quar- 
ter of  the  world,  and  waiting  for  the  harvest,  to  which 
reapers  are  not  sent ;  *  nay,  every  Bishop  of  our  commu- 
nion, here  at  home,  in  this  fair  land  of  light  and  liberty 
and  plenty,  walks  bending  to  his  work,  oppressed  with 
the  sad  burden  of  appeals  for  help  to  which  he  can  make 
no  reply,  and  yearns,  as  Jesus  yearned,  upon  those  faint- 
ing multitudes,  who  roved  from  field  to  field,  as  sheep 
that  had  no  shepherd.     Brethren,  shall  it  stiU  be  so  ? 
Shall  we  shut  up  our  light,  while  nations  "  gi^ope  at 
noon  day,  as  in  the  night  ?  "    Shall  we  refuse  the  crumbs 
of  our  rich  feast,  while  millions  perish  with  that  most 
grinding  of  all  wants,  starvation  of  the  soul  ?     Shall  we 
sit  still,  until  the  judgment  cloud  rolls  over  us ;  and 
nothing  shall  remain  for  us,  throughout  eternity,  but 
the   remembrance   of  those    words   of    Jesus    Christ, 
"  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  inasmuch  as  ye  did  it  not  unto 
one  of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  did  it  not  to 
me  ? "     I  cannot  think  that  one  of  you  will  answer, 

*  See  the  sad  and  shameful  statements  of  the  Domestic  and  Foreign  Treasurers 
of  the  Board  of  Missions. 


488  ANCIENT   CHAEITY. 

Yes !  What  tlien  sliall  be  the  remedy  ?  A  prompt 
return  with  penitence  and  tears,  to  "  the  old  paths " 
and  practice  of  the  Church.*  Fall  back,  in  God's  name, 
upon  the  ancient  faith !  Desire,  with  fervent  prayers 
to  God,  for  His  dear  Son's  sake,  a  new  outpouring  of  the 
ancient  charity !  That  it  may  be  so,  give  yourselves 
first  to  the  Lord.  Then,  like  the  Macedonian  Christians, 
you  will  be  willing  of  yourselves.  Then,  as  to  God, 
and  in  His  sight,  the  gift  of  every  man  mil  be  accord- 
ing to  his  just  ability.  Then  will  your  Christian  joy 
run  over,  from  the  deepest  poverty,  with  overflowing 
liberality.  The  beggarly  appeal  for  Christ  will  then  no 
more  be  heard.  The  sj^asm  of  an  extorted  charity  will 
then  no  more  be  felt.  The  Church's  hand,  the  Offer- 
tory, with  those  simple  sentences  of  God's  own  word, 
to  His  dear  children,  will  then  suffice  to  gather  for 
the  Church.  The  Church's  alms — each  member  of  it 
doing  what  he  can,  down  to  the  widow's  mite — distilling 
gently  as  the  morning  dew,  shall  clothe  the  valleys  all 
with  verdure,  and  surmount  the  bleakest  hill-top  with 
an  emerald  crown.  Grant  it  to  us,  God  of  our  salvation, 
for  Thy  dear  Son's  sake  :  and  to  Thee,  the  Father,  Son 
and  Holy  Ghost,  shall  be  the  glory  and  the  praise. 
Amen. 

*  There  arc  some  who  say  that  the  plan  of  Systematic  Charity  here  recom- 
mended will  not  answer  in  our  great  cities.  Perhaps  others  allege  its  unfitness 
for  the  country.  The  answer  to  both  is,  St.  Paul  gave  "  order  "  for  its  adoption 
to  the  Churchmen  of  the  wealthy  and  luxurious  city  of  Corinth,  as  he  had  before 
done  to  the  Churches  in  the  whole  province  of  Galatia.  When  General  Lee,  the 
story  goes,  complained  to  General  Washington,  at  Monmouth,  that  his  troops 
would  not  fight  the  British  Grenadiers,  he  simply  answered,  "  Sir,  you  have  not 
tried  it ! " 


*  SERMON  11. 

THE  CHUECH  THE  EULNESS  OF  CHEIST. 

Ephesians  I.  22,  23.— Head  over  all  things  to  the  Church  which  is  His  body, 
the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  iu  all. 

The  sacred  Scriptures  suffer  great  injustice  from  tlie 
prevailing  use  of  isolated  texts.  No  otlier  book  has 
ever  been  exposed  to  sucli  unfaii'ness.  No  otlier  would 
be  expected  to  endure  it.  And  yet,  to  what  other, 
whether  the  source,  the  subjects,  or  the  composition  be 
regarded,  could  its  application  be  so  dangerous?  It 
was  not  so  at  the  beginning.  Neither  St.  Peter  nor  St. 
Paul  dealt  so  with  the  old  Scriptures.  The  earliest 
preachers  were  expositors  of  Holy  Writ,  and  not  de- 
claimers  from  mere  insulated  words.  Like  the  Apostle, 
in  his  Roman  lodgings,  "  they  expounded  and  testified 
the  kingdom  of  God,  persuading  them  concerning  Jesus, 
both  out  of  the  Law  of  Moses,  and  out  of  the  Proph- 

*  At  the  consecration  of  the  Parish  Church,  Leeds,  Sept.  2,  A.  D.  1841. 
Dedicated  "  to  the  Most  Reverend,  the  Lord  Archbishop  of  York,  and  to  the 
Eight  Reverend  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Ripon,  this  Sermon,  preached  by  permission 
of  the  latter,  and  printed  at  the  desire  of  the  former,  is  now  inscribed,  as  the 
memorial  of  an  occasion  of  catholic  intercommunion,  which  has  gladdened  many 
hearts,  as  the  new  dawning  of  a  brighter  day  ;  and  also  in  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment of  personal  kindness,  by  their  most  affectionate  and  faithful  brother  in 
Christ,  George  Washington  Doane,  Bishop  of  New  Jersey." 


490  THE    CHUECH   THE   FULNESS    OF   CHEIST. 

ets ;  "*  even  as  tlie  Divine  Instructor,  walking  witli  tlie 
two  disciples,  on  the  evening  of  tlie  day  on  wliicli  He 
rose,  "beginning  at  Moses  and  all  tlie  Prophets,  ex- 
pounded unto  them  in  all  the  Scriptures  the  things 
concerning  himself."  f  This  was  a  natural  and  practi- 
cal proceeding.  "  The  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  "  was  set 
forth  thus  in  due  connection.  The  analogy  of  faith  pre- 
served its  just  proportion.  The  word  of  God  was  rightly 
divided ;  and  every  one  received  his  portion  in  his  season. 

Upon  the  use  of  isolated  texts  has  grown  the  recep- 
tion of  isolated  doctrines.  Men  lay  the  sacred  platform 
out  in  triangles  and  parallelograms,  and  take  their 
stand  on  this  or  that,  as  taste  or  fancy  shall  direct. 
That  sentence  of  St.  Paul,  "  all  Scripture  is  given  by  in- 
spiration of  God,  and  is  profitable,"  J  comes  to  be 
lightly  regarded.  Men  have  their  favourite  writers,  and 
their  favourite  books  of  Scripture.  One  claims  to  hold 
with  one,  the  other  with  another,  of  the  Apostles. 
"With  one  school,  this  is  the  gi'eat  doctrine  ;  that,  with 
another.  One  is  extolled,  as  fundamental.  Others 
dwindle  into  non-essentials.  A  single  truth  is  set  up  as 
the  test  of  a  standing  or  a  falling  church  :  while  inte- 
gral portions  of  the  same  "  faith,  once  delivered  to  the 
saints,"  serve  but  to  breed  suspicion  of  their  advocates ; 
and  bring,  on  those  who  dare  not  separate  "  what  God 
has  joined  together,"  the  name  of  bigots  and  of  formal- 
ists. 

It  was  not  so  that  the  Apostle  had  learned  Christ, 
or  that  he  taught  and  preached  Him.     Take  as  an  il- 

*  Acts  xxviii.  23.  ]  St.  Luke  xxiv.  2*7.  X  2  Timothy  iii.  16. 


THE   CHUECH   THE   FULNESS    OF    CHEIST.  491 

lustration  the  passage  whence  the  text  is  drawn.     Ob- 
serve how  carefully  he  knits  together  in  one  the  gra- 
cious truths  which,  in  the  Gospel,  are  revealed.     So 
perfect  the  intermixture  of  the  whole,  that  you  know 
not  where  to  begin,  or  where  to  leave  off.     So  accurate 
the  adjustment  of  the  parts,  that  the  omission  of  any 
one  destroys  the  hannony  of  the  whole.     The  text  and 
context  so  complete  in  their  connection,  that  they  in- 
volve the  sum  and  substance  of  all  Christian  teaching. 
"  Blessed  be  the  God  and  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ" — it  is  so  that  the  majestic  strain  begins — "who 
hath  blessed  us  with  all  spiritual  blessings  in  heav- 
enly places  in  Christ,"  "  in  whom  we  have  redemption 
through  His  blood,  the  forgiveness  of  sins,  according  to 
the  riches  of  His  grace."     Quickening  you,  he  after- 
wards explains,  but,  in  the  same  connection,  "  who  were 
dead  in  trespasses  and  sins,  wherein  in  time  past  ye 
walked,"  "  fulfilling  the  desires  of  the  flesh  and  of  the 
mind,  and  were  by  nature  children  of  wrath,  even  as 
others,"  "  according  as  He  hath  chosen  us  in  Him  before 
the  foundation  of  the  world,  that  we  should  be  holy 
and  without  blame  before  Him  in  love  :  "   "  that "  so, 
"  in  the  dispensation  of  the  fulness  of  times,  he  might 
gather  together  in  one  all  things  in  Christ,  both  which 
are  in  heaven,  and  which  are  on  earth,  even  in  Him." 
Nor  does  he  leave  the  subject,  even  with  this  full  and 
graphic  outline :  man's  dire  necessity,  as  "  dead  in  tres- 
passes and  sins,"  and  so  the  child  and  heu-  of  everlast^ 
ing  wrath ;  the  riches  of  God's  mercy,  "  for  His  great 
love  wherewith  He  loved  us,"  accej^ting  us  in  His  be- 


492  THE    CHUECH   THE   FULNESS    OF   CHEIST. 

loved  Son,  "  in  whom  we  have  redemption  tlirougli  His 
blood,  the  forgiveness  of  sins ; "  its  due  and  dutiful  re- 
sults, "  that  we  should  be  holy,  and  without  blame  be- 
fore Him  in  love ; "  its  great  and  gracious  end,  "  that, 
in  the  dispensation  of  the  fulness  of  times,  He  might 
gather  together  in  one  all  things  in  Christ."  He  dwells 
on  it,  enamoured  of  its  beauty.  He  presents  it  in  new 
forms.  He  groups  its  elements  in  new  combinations. 
He  insists  again  and  again  on  our  helplessness;  and 
again  and  again  admonishes  us  that  all  is  of  grace :  "  by 
grace  ye  are  saved ;  "  "  by  grace  ye  are  saved  through 
faith ; "  "  according  to  the  riches  of  His  grace ;  "  "  the 
exceeding  greatness  of  His  power  to  us-ward  who  be- 
lieve." He  mounts  up  into  heaven  with  Chiist,  whom 
God,  for  His  self  sacrificing  love,  raised  from  the  dead, 
and  set  "  at  His  own  right  hand,  in  heavenly  places,  far 
above  all  principality,  and  power,  and  might,  and  do- 
minion, and  every  name  that  is  named  not  only  in  this 
world,  but  also  in  that  which  is  to  come,  and  hath  put 
all  things  under  His  feet."  And  then,  the  crowning 
glory  of  the  whole,  he  adds,  and  so  concludes  his  glow- 
ing argument,  "  and  gave  Him  to  be  the  head  over  all 
things  to  the  Church,  which  is  His  body,  the  fulness  of 
Him  that  fiUeth  all  in  all." 

These  words,  presented  thus  in  their  connection,  de- 
clare, as  isolated  passage  never  could,  the  functions  of 
the  Church  in  cariying  on  that  greatest  work  of  God, 
salvation  through  the  Cross  of  Jesus  Christ,  to  its  en- 
tire completion.  They  teach  us  how,  from  first  to  last, 
in  all  the  stages  of  its  progress,  He  has  wrought,  works, 


THE    CHURCH   THE   FULNESS    OF    CHRIST.  493 

and  still  will  work,  by  means.  In  His  most  gracious 
pm'poses,  the  Lamb  of  God,  St.  John  informs  us,  was 
slain  from  the  foundation  of  the  world ;  *  that  so,  even 
to  the  first  transgressors,  the  Biniiser  of  the  serpent's 
head  might  mercifully  be  revealed.  When  the  full  time 
had  come,  the  meek  and  holy  Sufferer  hung  in  bleeding 
agony  upon  the  Cross,  making  atonement,  in  His  suffer- 
ing human  nature,  for  all  the  sins  of  all  mankind. 
And  till  the  world  shall  end,  and  He  who  suffered 
then  sliall  come  again  to  reign  for  e^^er,  it  is  in  and 
through  His  body — that  Church  which  He  has  pur- 
chased with  His  blood,  to  which  He  in  heaven  is  "  head 
over  all  things,"  which  is  "  the  fulness  "  even  "  of  Him 
that  filleth  all  in  all " — that  pardon,  sanctification,  and 
salvation  are  proclaimed  and  offered;  and  must  be 
sought  and  found  by  all  who  are  to  reign  with  Him 
when  He  cometh  in  His  glorious  kingdom.  It  is  in 
Him  that  "we  have  redemption  through  His  blood, 
the  forgiveness  of  sins,  according  to  the  riches  of  His 
grace."  It  is,  we  are  exj^ressly  taught,  that  in  the  dis- 
pensation of  the  fulness  of  times,  He  might  gather  to- 
gether in  one  all  things  in  Christ,  both  which  are  in 
heaven,  and  which  ai'e  on  earth."  Hath  He  "  quick- 
ened us  together  with  Christ,"  "  when  we  were  dead  in 
sins  ?  "  The  assurance  of  the  very  next  words  is,  "  (by 
grace  ye  are  saved ;)  and  hath  raised  us  up  together, 
and  made  us  sit  together  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ 
Jesus."  Is  "  the  exceeding  greatness  of  His  power  to 
us- ward  who  believe  "  to  be  proclaimed  ?    The  Apostle 

*  Revelation  iii.  8. 


494  THE   CHUECH   THE   rUL:o:SS    OF   CHEIST. 

finds  tlie  lieiglit  of  that  great  arguraent  in  tliis,  that  He, 
who,  in  his  glorified  humanity,  is  set  "  far  above  all 
principality,  and  power,  and  might,  and  dominion,  and 
every  name  that  is  named,  not  only  in  this  world,  but 
in  that  which  is  to  come,  and  hath  put  all  things  under 
His  feet,"  is  still,  in  gracious  condescension  to  the 
world,  which  He  came  do^vn  to  save,  "  head  over  all 
things  to  the  Church,  which  is  His  body,  the  fulness  of 
Hun  that  filleth  all  in  all." 

"  Head  over  all  things  to  the  Church  which  is  His 
body,  the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all."  These 
are  amazing  words.  There  is  a  solemn  and  mysterious 
awe  about  them,  which  we  do  not  willingly  approach. 
We  feel  that  they  must  baffle  every  human  grasp  ;  and 
shrink  from  them  with  an  instinctive  dread.  Yet,  they 
were  "written  for  our  learning."  They  are  part  of 
that  "  Scripture,"  of  which  "  all "  "  is  profitable."  They 
are  inwoven,  we  have  seen,  with  all  that  comes  most 
closely  home  to  us,  as  sinners  before  God ;  and  breathes 
with  most  benign  encom^agement  of  sins  forgiven,  and  of 
acceptance  through  the  Cross.  Divine  and  Holy  Spirit, 
Who  hast  promised  Thy  instruction  to  the  meek,  chastise 
our  sj)irits  into  meekness !  Reveal  to  us,  as  our  dull 
sight  may  bear,  the  radiance  of  Thy  truth !  And  make 
the  blessed  vision,  through  the  light  that  beams  for  ever 
from  the  face  of  Jesus  Chi'ist,  peaceful  and  hopeful  to  us 
here,  and  the  assured  earnest  of  the  light  of  everlasting  life ! 

The  Chuech  is  the  body  of  Cheist  ; 

He  is  its  head  ovee  all  thhstgs  ; 

It  is  His  fuljsiess,  even  as  He  filleth  all  Df  all. 


THE   CHURCH   THE   FULNESS    OF   CHEIST.  495 

I.  The  Cliurch  is  tlie  body  of  Christ.  So  St.  Paul, 
in  many  places.  "  He  is  the  head  of  the  body,  the 
Church."  *  "  For  His  body's  sake,  which  is  the 
Church."  f  "  Christ  is  the  head  of  the  Church,  and  He 
is  the  Saviour  of  the  body."  J  Doubtless,  this  is  a  mys- 
teiy.  The  Apostle  calls  it  "  a  great  mystery."  But 
so  is  death  a  mystery.  And  life  itself  a  greater  mys- 
tery. And  before  all  mysteries  is  this,  that  we,  who 
bear  al^out  a  dying  life,  should  yet,  through  the  atone- 
ment of  the  Son  of  God,  have  hope  and  pledge  of  im- 
mortality. "  Without  controversy,  great  is  the  mystery 
of  godliness ;  God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh."  §  But 
though  the  incarnation  be  a  mystery,  it  is  a  fact,  no 
less;  and  we  receive  it,  on  unquestionable  testimony. 
Though  the  Cross  of  our  Eedeemer  be  a  mystery,  it  is 
a  fact,  no  less ;  and  we  embrace  it  with  prevailing  faith, 
as  our  sole  rescue  from  eternal  death.  Though  the  as- 
cension of  the  glorified  humanity  of  Jesus  be  a  mystery, 
it  is  a  fact,  no  less ;  and  we  rejoice  mth  joy  unspeak- 
able, that  even  in  heaven  we  have  a  merciful  High 
Priest,  tempted  once  as  we  are,  that  He  might  sympa- 
thize with  our  infirmities,  and  succour  us  when  we  are 
tempted.  Blessed  and  comfortable  mystery,  that  the 
Church  is  the  body  of  Christ !  That  when  the  eternal 
Son  for  our  sakes  became  man,  He  not  only  humbled 
Himself  to  us,  but  raised  us  up  to  Him.  That  if  He 
emptied  Himself  of  His  divinity,  it  was  that  He  might 
take  us  into  His  humanity.  That  He  loved  us  with 
such  love,  that  not  to  be  our  Mend,  not  even  to  be  our 

*  Colossians  i.  18.         f  Col.  i.  24.         X  Ephesians  t.  24.         §  1  Tim.  iii.  16. 


496  THE   CHUECH   THE   FULNESS   OF   CHKIST. 

brotlier,  could  suffice  Him ;  but  to  be  one  with  us,  and 
make  us  one  with  Him :  He,  one  mtli  us  in  infirmity, 
tliat  we  miglit  be  one  witli  Him  in  power ;  He,  one 
witli  us  in  suffering,  tliat  we  miglit  be  one  mtli  Him  in 
happiness ;  He,  one  witli  us  in  death,  that  we  might  be 
one  with  Him  in  life ;  He,  one  with  us  in  every  thing 
but  sin,  that,  through  the  offering  for  us  of  Him  who 
did  no  sin,  we  might  be  one  ^vith  Him  in  righteousness 
and  holiness.  Blessed  be  His  name,  that  though  the 
relation  be  a  mystery,  the  entrance  into  it,  the  continu- 
ance in  it,  the  glorious  issue  of  it,  is  no  mystery  at  all ; 
but  simple,  even  to  the  level  of  that  little  child,  in 
which  He  taught  us  to  behold  ourselves,  as  He  would 
have  us  be.  "  Repent  and  be  baptized  every  one  of 
you,  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ."  *  "  As  many  of  you 
as  have  been  baptized  into  Christ  have  put  on  Christ."  f 
"  We,  being  many,  are  one  bread  and  one  body,  for 
we  are  all  partakers  of  that  one  bread."  J  "  God  is 
love ;  and  he  that  dAvelleth  in  love  dwelleth  in  God, 
and  God  in  him."  §  "  There  is  one  body  and  one 
Spirit,  even  as  ye  are  called  in  one  hoj)e  of  your  call- 
ing; one  Lord,  one  faith,  one  baptism,  one  God  and 
Father  of  all,  who  is  above  all,  and  through  all,  and  in 
you  all."  II  "  And  He  gave  some.  Apostles ;  and  some, 
Prophets;  and  some,  Evangelists;  and  some.  Pastors 
and  Teachers ;  for  the  perfecting  of  the  saints,  for  the 
work  of  the  ministry,  for  the  edifying  of  the  body  of 
Christ :  till  we  all  come  in  the  unity  of  the  faith,  and 

*  Acts  ii.  38.  t  Galatians  iii.  27.  X  1  Corinthians  x.  11. 

§  1  St.  John  iv.  16.  |  Ephesians  iv.  4-6. 


THE   CHTJECH   THE   FULITOSS    OF   CHEIST.  497 

of  the  knowledge  of  the  Son  of  God  unto  a  perfect 
man,  unto  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of 
Christ :  that  we  henceforth  be  no  more  children  tossed 
to  and  fro,  and  carried  about  with  every  wind  of  doc- 
trine, by  the  sleight  of  men  and  cunning  craftiness  of 
them  that  lie  in  wait  to  deceive;  but  speaking  the 
truth  in  love  may  grow  up  into  Him  in  all  things 
which  is  the  head,  even  Christ :  from  whom  the  whole 
body  fitly  joined  together  and  compacted  by  that  which 
every  joint  supplieth,  according  to  the  effectual  work- 
ing in  the  measure  of  every  part,  maketh  increase  of 
the  body,  unto  the  edifying  of  itself  in  love."  ^'*  "  Ye  are 
come  unto  Mount  Sion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  living 
God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable 
company  of  angels,  to  the  general  assembly  and  church 
of  the  first-born,  which  are  "written  in  heaven,  and  to 
God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect,  and  to  Jesus  the  Mediator  of  the  new 
covenant,  and  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  that  speaketh 
better  things  than  that  of  Abel."  f 

II.  As  the  Church  is  the  body  of  Christ,  so  is  He 
its  "head  over  all  things."  The  figure  which  makes 
the  Church  a  living  body  implies  of  course  a  li™g 
head.  That  head,  the  Scriptures  cited  teach,  is  Christ. 
Head,  as  He  is  the  source  to  it  of  life ;  living,  not  only, 
but  life  giving.  Head,  as  He  governs  and  controls  it 
by  His  sovereign  will.  Head,  as  He  symj)athizes  A^dth 
it,  in  all  its  joys  and  all  its  sorrows :  sees  of  the  travail 

*  Ephesians  iv.  11-16.  f  Hebrews  xii.  22-24. 

VOL.  IV. — 32 


498  THE   CHUECH   THE   FULNESS    OF   CHEIST. 

of  His  soul,  and  is  satisfied,  wlien  men  come  into  it  by 
penitence  and  faith,  and  walk  upriglitly  in  its  ways  of 
peace  and  holiness ;  and,  when  its  members  suffer,  or  do 
wrong,  is  persecuted  in  their  persecution,  or  crucified 
afresh  by  their  unfaithfulness.  "  Head  over  all  things '' 
to  His  Church,  by  His  Almighty  power:  ruling  in 
heaven  above,  and  on  the  earth  beneath ;  and  ordering 
all  things,  if  its  members  have  but  faith  in  Him,  for  its 
advancement  and  the  increase  of  its  glory.  "  Head 
over  all  things"  to  His  Chm-ch,  by  His  abounding 
grace :  anointing  His  ministers  with  holy  oil ;  keeping 
for  ever  bright  the  golden  chain,  let  down  from  heaven, 
of  their  perpetual  priesthood;  blessing  their  ministry 
with  sinners,  so  that  whosesoever  sins  they  remit,  they 
are  remitted ;  filling  continually  with  the  pure  water 
of  eternal  life  the  laver  of  the  new  creation  ;  pleading 
for  ever  for  us,  at  the  throne,  the  merits  of  that  sacri- 
fice for  sins,  by  whose  prevailing  virtue  the  bread  and 
wine  become  the  "  meat  indeed,"  and  "  drink  indeed," 
by  which  believing  souls  are  nurtured  for  immortality ; 
and  giving  to  His  "  faithful  people,  pardon  and  peace, 
that  they  may  be  cleansed  from  all  their  sins,  and  serve  " 
Him  "  with  a  quiet  mind."  * 

IH.  The  Church,  which  is  the  body  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  and  He  its  head,  is,  finally,  "  the  fulness  of  Him 
who  fiUeth  all  in  all."  In  other  words  of  the  same 
Scripture,  it  is  "  complete  in  Him."  From  Him,  as 
from  its  living  and  life-giving  Head,  flow  doAvn  per- 

*  Collect  for  twenty-first  Sunday  after  Trinity. 


THE   CHUECH   THE   FULNESS    OF    CHEIST.  499 

petually  tlie  succours  of  tliat  grace  wHcli  makes  it 
what  it  is,  and  wliat  it  ouglit  to  be.  It  lias  no  power 
but  of  His  gift,  no  vii'tue  but  in  His  merit.  His  is  tlie 
liglit  wliicli  makes  its  word  of  trutli  effectual.  His  is 
"the  spirit  of  supplications,"  without  w^hich  all  its 
prayers  fall,  like  spent  arrows,  long  before  they  reach 
the  throne.  His  is  the  grace  from  which  alone  its  sac- 
raments derive  their  efficacy,  and  all  its  gifts  theii* 
worth.  But,  though,  without  Him,  the  Church  has 
nothing,  and  is  nothing ;  with  Him,  and  in  Him,  she 
possesseth  all  things.  "As  it  pleased  the  Father  that 
in  Him  should  all  fulness  dwell,"  *  as  "  in  Him  dwell- 
eth  all  the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily ;"  f  so  is  the 
Church,  as  His  body,  "  the  fulness  of  Him  that  fiUeth 
all  in  all :  "  the  fulness  of  His  wisdom,  guiding  her  by 
His  gracious  Spirit  into  all  saving  knowledge,  that  she 
may  be,  through  all  the  changes  of  the  world,  as  she 
has  been,  the  ground  and  pillar  of  the  truth  ;  the  ful- 
ness of  His  power,  that  weak  as  she  may  be,  and  small, 
and  little  thought  of  by  the  world,  the  gates  of  hell 
may  never,  as  they  never  did,  prevail  against  her ;  the 
fulness  of  His  grace,  that  she  may  nurture  His  dear 
children  at  her  bosom,  sustain,  against  the  conflicts  of 
the  world,  the  devil  and  the  flesh,  the  men  and  women, 
who  take  refuge  at  her  altar,  smooth  the  declining  path 
of  tottering  age  that  courts  the  shelter  of  her  peaceful 
shadow,  and  lighten,  through  the  grave,  the  souls  that 
in  her  sweet  communion,  fall  asleep  in  Jesus.  What 
but  His  fulness,  who  fills  all  in  all,  made  fishermen  and 

*  Colossians  i.  19.  t  Colossians  ii.  9. 


500  THE    CHURCH   THE   FULNESS    OF    CHRIST. 

publicans,  and  tent-makers  mighty  to  break  down 
strongholds,  and  to  overthrow  bigk  places,  and  to  bring 
low  every  thought  to  the  obedience  of  Christ  ?  What 
but  His  fulness  gave  the  victory  to  that  small  company 
of  poor,  despised  and  persecuted  Nazarenes,  against  the 
might  and  majesty  of  all-controlling  Rome ;  and  made 
of  one  who  came,  like  the  Apostle  Paul,  in  weakness, 
and  in  trembling,  and  in  fear,  more  than  an  overmatch 
for  Athens,  and  her  proud  philosophy  ?  What  but  His 
fulness  has  sustained  the  pure,  life-giving  stream  against 
the  opposing  currents  of  the  world  and  hell ;  and  makes 
its  track  still  visible,  in  every  land,  by  the  fresh  emer- 
ald verdure  of  its  "pietj  and  charity  ?  What  but  His 
fulness  can  supply  one  sinner  that  repenteth  with  the 
peace  which  passeth  understanding ;  or  strengthen  one 
believer  to  achieve  that  noblest  of  all  victories,  the 
conquest  of  himself;  or  sustain  one  dying  saint  against 
that  overmastering  fear  with  which  mortality  shrinks 
back,  instinctive,  at  the  thought  of  dissolution,  and  en- 
able him  to  say,  with  the  Apostle,  in  his  noble  rapture, 
"  Oh  death,  where  is  thy  sting ;  oh  grave,  whei'e  is  thy 
victory ! "  These  are  the  trophies  which  make  good 
the  Church's  claim  to  be  His  frilness,  who  fills  all  in  all. 
The  least  of  them  is  its  sufficient  proof.  One  life  re- 
formed, one  soul  converted,  one  mom^ner  comforted, 
transcends  all  human  skill,  all  human  might.  He  only 
who  fills  all  in  all,  who  made  the  heart,  who  knows  its 
frame,  who  skills  to  wield  it  at  His  will,  is  equal  to 
these  things.  Her  hoarded  saints,  her  glorious  mar- 
tyrs, her  missionaries  that  go  forth  with  their  hearts 


THE   CHURCH   THE   FULNESS    OF    CHRIST.  501 

naked  in  their  hands,  lier  faithful  children  Avho  deny 
themselves,  and  take  their  cross  and  follow  Christ,  live 
to  themselves  no  more  but  unto  Him,  and  shine,  in  the 
reflection  of  His  brightness,  as  lights  in  a  dark  place, 
the  blessing  and  the  glory  of  their  age,  the  salt  that 
keeps  the  world  from  dissolution — these  are  her  marks, 
that  she  has  been  with  Jesus ;  these  the  living  and  im- 
mortal fruits  of  that  divine  and  glorious  fulness  which 
fills  all  in  all.     The  tracks  of  human  conquerors  are 
forgotten,  while  the  blood  is  yet  upon  theii'  feet.     The 
science,  that  could  rear  the  Pyramids,  could  not  perpet- 
uate the  name  of  their  projectors.     The  marble  mould- 
ers, and  the  brass  corrodes,  in  utter  mockery  of  man's 
attempts  at  immortality.     But,  like  the  memory  of  the 
box  of  ointment,  which  was  poured  upon  the  Saviour's 
feet,  the  humblest  act  of  faith  and  piety  shall  never 
die ;  and  when  the  heavens  are  shrivelled  and  the  earth 
dissolved,  the  record  that  is  written  in  the  book  laid 
up  before  the  Lamb,  shall  still  outshine,  as  it  outlasts, 
the  stars.      "Then  they  that  feared  the  Lord  spake 
often   one  to  another,  and   the   Lord   hearkened  and 
heard  it ;  and  a  book  of  remembrance  was  written  be- 
fore Hun  for  them  that   feared   the   Lord,  and   that 
thought  upon  His  name.     And  they  shall  be  mine, 
saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  in  that  day  when  I  make  up 
my  jewels."  * 

It  is  in  this  great  and  glorious  cause,  the  greatest 
and  most  glorious  that  can  engage  the  interest  and  ac- 

*  Malachi  iii.  16,  11. 


502  THE   CHURCH   THE   FULITESS    OF    CHRIST. 

tuate  the  energies  of  men,  tliat  we,  beloved  bretliren, 
liave  been  gathered  here  to-day.  Deeply  and  fervently 
does  every  pulse  of  raiue, — dear  friend  of  many  years,* 
by  whose  suggestion  I  stand  here,  partaker  of  your  joy, 
— beat  in  accordance  with  your  own.  This  noble 
structure,  projected  in  such  deep,  far-reaching  wisdom, 
pursued  to  its  completion  with  such  fidelity,  munifi- 
cence and  perseverance,  and  now  given  up  to  God,  and 
taken,  in  His  name,  by  His  ambassador,  is  His  own  tes- 
timony to  the  truth  and  power  of  His  own  word,  the 
fulfilment  of  His  own  promise  to  be  with  and  to  bless 
His  church.  Long  may  it  stand,  the  witness  of  the 
faith  delivered  once  to  the  old  saints ;  the  birth-place 
and  the  home  of  thousands  and  of  myriads  that  shall 
unite  their  spiiits  here,  in  piety  and  prayer,  to  join  be- 
fore the  throne  their  songs  of  ceaseless  praise.  Here, 
through  long  ages,  may  the  daily  service  lift  its  steam- 
ing incense  from  true,  penitent  and  faithful  hearts,  ac- 
cepted, through  the  blood  of  Jesus,  at  the  mercy  seat  of 
heaven ;  and  bring,  like  dews  that  fell  before  on  Har- 
mon's favoured  hill,  showers  of  immortal  blessings. 
Here,  through  long  ages,  may  the  testimony  of  that 
truth  be  held,  which  "  holy  men  of  old  "  received  from 
the  anointed  lips  of  the  incarnate  Word,  and  at  their 
life's  cost  bore  about  for  the  instruction  and  conversion 
of  a  guilty  and  rebellious  world ;  and,  having  sealed  the 
message  with  their  blood,  committed  it  to  other  "  faithful 
men,"  who  should  come  after  them,  and  they  again,  in 

*  The  Rev.  Dr.  Hook,  Vicar  of  Leeds,  by  whose  request  the  preacher  came  to 
England,  for  this  service. 


THE   CHUECH   THE   FULNESS    OF   CHKIST.  503 

an  unbroken  line,  to  us.  Here,  tlirougli  long  ages,  may 
that  sacred  font  pour,  in  perennial  stream,  its  pure,  re- 
(-"enerating  wave ;  tliat  holy  altar  minister,  in  never 
stinted,  never  disregarded,  plenty,  its  spiritual  and  im- 
mortal banquet ;  "  the  means  of  grace,"  through  which, 
to  penitent  and  faithful  hearts,  the  purchase  of  the 
Cross  assures  the  "hope  of  glory."  Here,  may  the 
promise  be  fulfilled,  "  lo,  I  am  with  you  always  even 
unto  the  end  of  the  world :  "  and  may  there  never  fail 
from  out  these  courts  a  priesthood,  in  the  line  which 
takes  commission  from  the  day  of  the  Ascension,  on 
that  mount  in  Galilee,  clothed  in  the  righteousness  of 
their  triumphant  Head,  and  burning  with  His  love  for 
human  souls  ;  nor  yet  a  people,  waiting  on  their  minis- 
try with  joyful  hearts,  showing  forth  the  praises  of  Him 
that  calls  them  from  the  world,  and  hastening  on,  in 
faith,  and  penitence,  and  charity,  and  prayer,  the  com- 
ing of  His  glorious  kingdom !  "  Even  so,  come,  Lord 
Jesus ! " 

Most  reverend  brother,  and  right  reverend  breth- 
ren,* it  is  no  ordinary  providence  of  Grod  that  brings  us 
here  together.  In  other  days,  solemnities  like  this  were 
the  occasion  when  the  Bishops  of  Christ's  Church  were 
wont  to  come  together  from  distant  provinces,  for  the 
confirmation  of  the  faith,  and  the  increase  of  charity, 
and  to  renew  their  solemn  vows  to  God,  and  pledge 
themselves,  each  to  the  other,  to  new  service,  and,  if 


*  Allusion  is  here  made  to  the  presence  of  his  Grace  the  Lord  Archbishop  of 
York,  the  Metropolitan,  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Ripon,  the  Diocesan,  and  the  Lord 
Bishop  of  Ross  and  Argyle. 


504  THE   CHURCH   THE   EUIxNESS    OF   CHEIST. 

need  should  be,  new  sufferings,  in  His  name.  Is  it  not 
so  again  ?  Slial]  it  not  be  so  now  ?  From  the  far-dis- 
tant West,  a  Bishop  of  that  Church,  which,  as  the 
youngest  daughter  of  the  Saviour's  household,  has  so 
much  to  acknowledge,  and  so  gratefully  acknowledges 
it,  of  "  first  foundation,"  "  under  God,"  and  "  long  con- 
tinuance of  nursing  care  and  protection,"*  I  come,  to 
pay  my  vows  here,  in  my  fathers'  Church,  and  to  my 
fathers'  God.  Just  on  the  eve  of  my  departure,  the 
Convention  of  my  Diocese,  with  other  marks  of  faithful 
love,  f  which  live  for  ever  in  my  heart  of  hearts,  placed 
in  my  hands  such  words  as  these  : — "  Resolved,  that  we 
humbly  and  confidently  trust,  that  the  renewal  of 
friendly  intercourse  between  the  branches  of  the  Church 
Catholic  in  England,  and  America,  under  auspices  like 

*  See  the  Preface  to  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  of  the  American  Church. 

f  "  Resolved,  That  this  Convention  have  heard  with  mingled  feelings  of  grati- 
fication and  regret,  that  the  Bishop  of  this  diocese  is  about  to  separate  himself 
from  it  by  a  brief  absence  ;  gratification,  that  the  intercourse  between  the  Church 
in  England  and  that  in  America,  so  long  interrupted  by  restrictions  of  state  policy, 
will  be  renewed,  by  his  visit,  in  strict  accordance  with  catholic  principles  and  an- 
cient usage  ;  regret,  that  even  in  such  a  cause,  and  with  such  an  object,  the  dio- 
cese is  to  be  deprived  for  a  time  of  his  labours  and  example — labours  and  example 
directed  by  a  mind  so  enlightened,  a  heart  so  sound,  and  a  zeal  and  an  abihty  so 
pre-eminent  and  successful. 

"  Resolved,  That  we  humbly  and  confidently  trust  that  the  renewal  of  friendly 
intercourse  between  the  branches  of  the  Church  Catholic  in  England  and  America, 
under  auspices  like  the  present,  will  contribute,  by  the  Divine  blessing,  to 
strengthen  and  extend  the  holy  influence  of  'evangelical  truth  and  apostoHcal 
order '  in  their  purity  and  integrity  ;  and  to  revive  that  spirit  in  both  Churches 
which,  in  by-gone  days,  made  our  venerable  mother  the  glory  of  Christendom, 
the  '  bulwark  of  the  Reformation.' 

"  Resolved,  That  we  hereby  assure  our  Right  Rev.  Father  in  God,  of  our  affec- 
tionate interest  in  his  safety  and  welfare  during  liis  proposed  voyage  and  visit ; 
and  that  our  prayers  shall  ascend  to  Him  in  whose  hands  are  all  the  corners  of 
the  earth,  that  He  will  be  pleased  to  guide  and  guard  him  in  his  absence,  and  to 
restore  him  speedily  to  the  flock  over  which  the  Chief  Shepherd  hath  set  him,  to 
the  comfort  and  joy  of  us  all." 


THE   CHURCH   THE   FULNESS    OF   CHRIST.  505 

the  present,  will  contribute  by  the  divine  blessing,  to 
extend  and  strengthen  the  holy  influence  of  evangelical 
truth  and  apostolical  order,  in  their  purity  and  integ- 
rity, and  to  revive  that  spirit  in  both  Churches  which, 
in  by-gone  days,  made  our  venerable  mother  the  glory 
of  Christendom,  '  the  bulwark  of  the  Eeformation.' " 
At  every  point  of  my  delightful  pilgrimage,  from  the 
time-honoured  towers  of  Lambeth,  and  from  that  vener- 
able prelate,  whose  spirit  of  meek  wisdom  and  of  an- 
cient piety  sits  on  them,  as  a  crowning  charm,  through 
all  the  orders  of  the  Clergy,  and  all  the  Laity,  these 
sentiments  have  met  a  prompt  and  full  response.  And 
I  am  now  here,  with  my  loins  girt  *  for  my  long  voyage, 
to  join,  with  hand  and  heart,  in  this  most  interesting 
service,  with  the  most  reverend  Metropolitan,  and  the 
right  reverend  Diocesan,  and  a  right  reverend  Bishop  of 
the  sister  Church  in  Scotland,  that  so  I  may  take  back 
to  my  own  altars  the  golden  cord,  three-stranded,  of 
our  Catholic  communion.  Warmly  will  they  receive  it, 
who  work  with  me  there,  as  fellow-helpers  of  the  Gos- 
pel, and  fondly  cherish  it.  Their  hearts  will  soften, 
and  their  eyes  will  swell,  as  I  describe  the  glories  of 
this  day,  at  the  remembrance  of  the  days  of  other  years. 
They  will  think  of  the  homes  which  their  forefathers 
left,  the  happy  homes  of  England.  They  will  think  of 
the  love  that  followed  them,  to  furnish  them  with  spir- 
itual pastorsjf  and  to  help  them  to  set  up  their  humble 
folds.     They  will  recount  the  acts  and  offices  of  bounty 

*  In  two  days,  the  preacher  embarked  for  America. 
f  But,  alas !  not  with  Bishops. 


506  THE    CHUECH    THE    FULNESS    OF   CHRIST. 

whicli  refreslied  tlie  fathers'  hearts,  and  still  refi'esli  the 
children's.  Above  all,  they  will  remember  how,  when 
fervent  Seabury  *  set  out  on  his  adventure  for  the 
Cross,  the  Bishops  of  the  Church  of  Scotland  heard  his 
prayer,  and  sent  him  back,  with  the  authority  and 
grace  of  the  Episcopate,  to  be  the  first  Apostle  of  the 
West :  and,  turning  then  to  Lambeth,  to  that  simple 
chapel,  where  the  patriarchal  White  f  received  that  of- 
fice of  a  bishop,  which,  with  divine  permission,  he  con- 
veyed to  twenty-six,  they  will  thank  God,  as  I  do,  with 
an  overflowing  heart,  that  one,  in  whom  these  noble 
lines  are  blended,  J  was  permitted,  in  His  providence, 
to  stand  to-day  at  their  twin  source,  and  to  re-combine 
them  in  this  animating  service ;  the  clearest  and  most 
powerful  demonstration  §  which  this  age  has  shown, 
that  Christ's  Church  everywhere  is  one,  and  Catholic 
truth  and  Catholic  love,  still,  as  in  other  days,  the  bond 
of  Christian  hearts. 

Brethren,  right  reverend,  reverend  and  beloved,  it 
is  written  in  the  elder  records  of  our  faith,  that  when 
the  ark  of  God  was  on  its  progress  towards  the  hill  of 
Sion,  it  rested  once,  for  three  months,  in  the  house  of 
Obed-edom :  and  the  Lord  blessed  Obed-edom  and  all 
his  household.  ||     "  And  it  was  told  king  David,  say- 

*  Consecrated  in  Scotland,  November,  1784. 

f  Consecrated,  with  Dr.  Provoost,  at  Lambeth,  Feb.  4,  1787,  by  Archbishop 
Moore. 

:};  In  a  late  conversation  with  the  venerable  President  of  Magdalen,  Dr.  Routh, 
he  spoke  of  ours  as  "  the  Scoto- Anglican  succession." 

§  Such  I  must  regard  the  presence  of  Bishops  of  three  branches  of  the  Catholic 
Church,  with  the  venerable  Archbishop  of  York,  surrounded  by  more  than  three 
hundred  Clergymen,  in  the  midst  of  a  congregation  of  four  thousand. 

J   2  Samuel  vi.  10-12, 


THE   CHUECH   THE   FULNESS    OF   CHEIST.  507 

ino;.  The  Lord  Latli  blessed  tlie  house  of  Obed-edom, 
and  all  that  pertaineth  unto  him,  because  of  the  ark  of 
God."  As  I  have  gone  fi'om  scene  to  scene,  of  highest 
interest  and  rarest  beauty  in  this  most  favoured  land 
of  all  the  world ;  contemplated  it  arts,  its  industry,  its 
wealth ;  enjoyed  its  comforts  and  refinements ;  and 
shared,  with  a  full  heart,  the  j^eace  and  haj^piness  of  its 
dear  Christian  homes ;  as  I  have  thought  of  its  attain- 
ments in  science  and  in  letters ;  as  I  have  recounted  its 
feats  of  arms  and  fields  of  victory ;  as  I  have  followed 
through  every  ocean  and  through  every  sea  its  cross- 
emblazoned  flag ;  and  seen  that  on  the  circuit  of  its  em- 
pire the  sun  never  sets ;  I  have  asked  myself,  instinc- 
tively, whence,  to  so  small  a  sj^eck  on  the  world's  map, 
— a  sea-beleaguered  island,  sterile  in  soil,  and  stern  in 
climate,  Britain,  cut  off,  in  ancient  judgment,  from  the 
world* — such  wealth,  such  glory,  and  such  power? 
And  the  instinctive  answer  has  returned  spontaneous 
to  my  heart,  "  the  Lord  hath  blessed  the  house  of  Obed- 
edom,  and  all  that  pertaineth  unto  him,  because  of  the 
ark  of  God."  Yes,  from  my  heart  I  say,  the  strength 
of  England  is  the  Church  of  England.  Your  wealth, 
your  glory,  and  your  power,  is  but  God's  blessing  on 
your  kingdom,  as  the  home  and  shelter  of  His  Church. 
Here,  in  the  very  days  of  the  Apostles,  it  took  root. 
Here,  in  the  earliest  ages  it  was  tended  by  true  pastors 
and  enriched  with  martyr's  blood,  poured  out,  like 
water,  on  a  thousand  fields.  Here,  ancient  piety  and 
ancient  charity  lavished  their  treasures,  to  endow  it, 

*  "  Britannos  orbc  divisos.'* 


508  THE   CHUECH   THE   FULNESS    OF   CHEIST. 

and  sent  up  their  hearts  in  prayers  for  blessings  on 
their  deed.  Here,  kings  have  been  the  nursing  fa- 
thers, and  queens  the  nursing  mothers  of  the  Church ; 
and  here,  the  State,  with  truest  wisdom,  has  allied 
itself  to  her,  and,  in  the  shelter  of  her  shadow,  sought 
for  favour  and  protection,  on  itself,  and  on  the  people 
of  its  care.  Here,  when  the  force  and  fraud  of  fallen 
and  coiTupted  Rome  had  piled  its  mountain  mass  of 
worldliness  and  pride,  true  hearts  took  strength  from 
God,  to  heave  it  from  its  tottering  centre ;  and  true 
hands  embraced  the  burning  stake,  and  kindled  with  it 
such  a  fire  upon  its  altars  as  never  shall  go  out,  but 
burn  and  blaze  for  ever,  as  the  beacon  light  of  Chris- 
tian liberty  and  Chiistian  truth.  Here,  never  have 
been  wanting  bishops,  that  would  brave  the  dungeon, 
or  endure  the  rack,  for  Christ's  sake,  and  His  Church. 
Here,  never  have  been  wanting  faithful  pastors,  feeding 
Christian  flocks,  upon  a  thousand  hills,  and  in  a  thou- 
sand valleys,  in  the  green  pastures  of  the  Gospel,  in  sim- 
plicity, and  purity,  and  peace.  Here,  from  the  schools 
and  universities,  endowed  by  Christian  bounty,  and 
controlled  by  Christian  wisdom,  and  imbued  with 
Christian  piety,  a  never-failing  stream  of  godly  and 
well-learned  men  have  still  gone  out,  to  serve  the 
Church,  and  to  adorn  the  State.  Here,  from  ten  thou- 
sand altars  prayers  have  constantly  ascended  from  de- 
vout and  faithful  hearts,  for  blessings  upon  England; 
and  have  fallen  in  showers  of  mercy  on  the  land  and  on 
its  quiet  homes.  These  are  your  arts,  my  friends,  these 
are  your  arms.     The  strength  of  England  is  in  Chris- 


THE   CHUECH   THE   FULISTESS    OF   CHRIST.  509 

tian  hearts.  The  suuliglit  of  its  splendour  is  tlie  ra- 
diance whicli  is  reflected  upon  its  Christian  spii-es.  The 
anchors  that  have  moored  your  island,  and  preserved  it 
immovable,  are  the  deep  roots  of  old  Cathedrals. 
And  the  armament  that  keeps  its  virgin  shoi-e  unsul- 
lied is  the  squadron  that  conveys  to  distant  lands  your 
missionary  enterprise.  Be  these  your  arts,  my  friends, 
be  these  your  arms !  Cling  to  your  fathers'  Church, 
cling  to  your  fathers'  God  !  Increase  your  folds !  Mul- 
tiply your  pastors  !  Gather  in  your  scattered  sheep  ! 
Compass  the  earth  with  your  Colonial  bishoprics  !  This 
is  the  strength  which  will  j)rocure  no  enmity.  This  is 
the  glory  which  will  provoke  no  war.  It  is  the  strength 
in  which  humanity  itself  shall  be  made  strong.  It  is 
the  glory  which  shall  overflow  and  bless  the  world. 
The  strife  shall  then  be,  not  for  personal  aggrandize- 
ment, but  for  new  empires  to  the  Cross.  The  end  and 
aim  of  such  an  emulation,  the  bringing  on  of  that  most 
blessed  day,  when  all  the  kingdoms  of  the  world  shall 
be  "  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord  and  of  His  Christ." 

In  this  most  gracious  and  most  glorious  work  it  is 
your  privilege,  my  brethren,  to  unite,  this  day.  This 
noblest  trophy  of  our  age  to  the  great  cause  of  Catho- 
lic truth  and  love  is  reared  by  individual  efi^orts.  Pri- 
vate hearts  have  planned,  and  private  hands  have 
reared,  this  temple,  to  the  worship,  in  your  fathers' 
faith,  and  through  your  fathers'  prayers,  of  your  own 
fathers'  God.  They  have  done  so  in  that  lofty  faith, 
which,  when  it  sees  the  end,  trusts  that  the  means  -wiU 
come.     It  is  from  your  hearts  and  through  your  hands 


510  THE   GHUECH   THE   FULNESS    OF   CHEIST. 

that  God  this  day  will  vindicate,  to  tliein  who  trust  in 
Him,  His  own  inost  gracious  word.  Open  wide  your 
bosoms,  to  the  sway  of  that  most  gracious  Spirit,  of 
whose  countless  gifts  the  best  and  most  illustrious  is 
charity.  Prove  that  the  fathers'  blood  still  circles  in 
the  children's  veins.  Prove  that  the  fathers'  spirit  still 
inspires  the  children's  hearts.  Prove,  by  your  free  and 
liberal  contributions,  that  you  are  not  of  those  who 
would  desire  to  serve  the  Lord  with  that  which  costs 
you  nothing ;  but  that,  having  given  up,  first,  your  own 
selves  to  the  Lord,  your  chief  delight  and  highest  glory 
is,  to  heap  His  altar  with  your  treasures,  and  to  pour 
your  hearts  out  at  His  cross. 

Brethren,  beloved  in  the  Lord,  this  is  the  first,  this 
is  the  last,  time  of  my  ministry  among  you.  Shortly, 
a  thousand  leagues  of  sea  will  roll  between  us.  Blessed 
be  God,  the  circle  of  the  whole  earth  cannot  divide  the 
faithful  hearts  which  have  been  knit  in  Christian  love. 
Blessed  be  God,  the  communion  of  saints  takes  in  both 
worlds ;  and,  joining  each  to  every  other,  joins  all  to 
God.  Never,  while  a  pulse  shall  sway  the  native  cur- 
rents in  my  breast,  shall  this  day  be  forgotten.  Often, 
as  I  shall  sit  among  the  loved  ones  of  my  house,  or 
shall  go  in  and  out  among  the  flocks,  of  which  the  Holy 
Ghost  has  made  me  overseer,  this  solemn  scene — the 
holy  temple,  the  mighty  congregation,  the  company  of 
white-robed  priests,*  those  bishops,  venerable  and  be- 
loved, the  sacred  services,  the  unearthly  music,  every 
incident  and  circumstance,  and   every  deepest  feeling 

*  The  attending  clergy  were  all  in  surplices. 


THE    CHURCH   THE   FULNESS    OF   CHRIST.  511 

that  was  touclied  and  stirred — shall  rise  before  the  vis- 
ion of  my  soul.  Never,  without  the  heartfelt  prayer  : 
"  Peace  be  within  thy  walls,  and  plenteousness  within 
thy  palaces.  For  my  brethren  and  companions'  sake,  I 
will  wish  thee  prosperity.  Yea,  because  of  the  house 
of  the  Lord  our  God,  I  will  seek  to  do  thee  good." 
Grant  it,  God  of  oui'  salvation,  for  Thy  mercy's  sake  in 
Jesus  Christ :  and  to  Thee,  the  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Ghost,  shall  be  ascribed  the  glory  and  the  praise,  now 
and  for  evermore.     Amen. 


*  SERMON  III. 
THE  GLORIOUS  THmGS  OF  THE  CITT  OF  GOD. 

Psalm  lxxxtii.  1,  2. — Her  foundations  are  upon  the  holy  hills;  the  Lord 
loveth  the  gates  of  Zion  more  than  all  the  dwellings  of  Jacob.  Glorious  things 
are  spoken  of  thee,  0  City  of  God. 

These  lines  of  ancient  prophecy  pourtray  in  fewest 
words  the  splendid  fortunes  of  tlie  Churcli  of  God. 
"  Her  foundations  are  iipon  the  holy  JiillsP  She  stands 
immovable  in  strength.  For  her  stability,  omnipo- 
tence is  pledged  to  holiness — "  The  Lord  loveth  the  gates 
of  Sion  more  than  all  the  dwellings  of  Jacohy  Is  it 
not  written  of  her,  "  the  Church  of  God,  which  He  hath 
purchased  with  His  own  blood  ?  "f  And  again, "  Christ 
also  loved  the  Church  and  gave  Himself  for  it  ?  "J — 
"  Glorious  things  are  spolcen  of  thee,  0  citij  of  GodP 

*  The  first  sermon  in  St.  Mary's  Church,  Burhngton,  "after  a  brief  pilgrimage 
to  the  Church  of  England,"  September  26,  A.  D.  1841.  Dedicated  to  Sir  Robert 
Harry  Inglis,  Bart.,  M.P.,  D.C.L.,  the  Christian  Scholar,  the  Christian  Gentleman, 
the  Christian  Statesman  ;  beside  whose  hospitable  hearth  my  feet  first  found  an 
English  home  ;  whose  cordial  hand  grasped  my  first  welcome  to  my  father-land  ; 
whose  radiant  smile  cheered  me  through  England,  and  still  lingers  on  my  western 
way ;  this  thankful  recognition  of  God's  abundant  blessings  on  that  glorious 
Church,  in  the  long  line  of  whose  illustrious  laity,  he  stands,  among  the  foremost, 
first ;  is  now  inscribed,  as  justly  as  sincerely,  by  his  affectionate  and  faithful  friend, 
the  Bishop  of  New  Jersey." 

t  Acts  XX.  28.  \  Ephesians  v.  25. 


THE   GLOEIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE   CITY    OF   GOD.       513 

It  is  tte  very  word  whicli  tlie  Apostle  uses,  to  describe 
tlie  motive  to  that  gracious  purchase.  "  That  He  might 
present  it  to  Himself,  a  glorious  Church,  not  having 
spot,  or  Avrinkle,  or  any  such  thing ;  but  that  it  should 
be  holy,  and  without  blemish."'^  Gracious  Lover  of 
our  souls,  who,  when  no  other  price  was  equal  to  the 
ransom,  didst  give  Thyself  for  our  redemption,  make 
us,  we  beseech  Thee,  meet  to  be — what  thou  hast  made 
us — ^Thine ! 

"  Gloeious  things  aee  spoken  of  thee,  O  city  of 
God  !  "  Unfold  the  scroll  of  pro23hecy,  and  mark  the 
splendours  which  they  throw  upon  its  radiant  page. 
Hear,  how  the  Psalmist,  on  "  the  height  of  this  great 
argument,"  transcends  his  loftiest  strain,  f  What  other 
subject  wakes  such  notes  of  triumph  from  Isaiah's 
sounding  strings  ?  %  And,  when  Ezekiel,  §  Micah,  [ 
Haggai,^  Zechariah,'^^''  Malachi,ff  attain  to  an.unwonted 
rapture,  it  is  the  coming  glory  of  Messiah's  kingdom 
that  fills  and  fires  their  songs. 

"  Gloeious  things  aee  spoken  of  thee,  O  city  op 
God  !  "  What  page  of  history  studded  so  thick  with 
triumphs,  as  that  which  chronicles  the  acts  of  the 
Apostles  ?  Twelve  men,  publicans  and  fishermen, 
encompassing  the  world,  and  setting  up  the  Cross, 
on  which  their  Master  perished,  on  its  temples  and 
its  towers !  A  tent-maker  at  Tarsus,  more  than  an 
overmatch  for  the  philosoj^hy  of  Athens,  and  the  elo- 


*  Ephesians  v.  2*7.  f  For  example,  Psalms  xlv.  xlviii.  Ixxii.  cxxii. 

X  For  example,  Isaiah  xi.  xxv.  xxvi.  xl.  xlv.  lii.  liv.  Iv.  Ix.  Ixii. 

§  Ch.  xviii.  xxxiii.  xxxvii.  xlvii.    I  Ch.  iv.  v.    ^  Ch.  ii.     **  Ch.  xiii.   f  f  Ch,  iii. 

VOL.  IV. — 33 


514      THE    GLOEIOUS   THITTGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF   GOD. 

quence  of  Rome  !  A  Jewisli  peasant,  whose  liigliest 
title  is,  that  it  was  lie  "  whom  Jesus  loved,"  spared  to 
behold  the  sword  of  Titus  assertino-  his  Master's  honour, 
in  the  overthi'ow  of  the  ungrateful  nation,  that  had  cru- 
cified and  killed  Him ;  and  a  Roman  ploughshare,* 
turning  up  the  very  ground  on  which  the  temple  stood, 
prepare  the  way  for  that  long  promised  "  house  of  pray- 
er," which  is  to  gather  in  the  nations,  as  a  flock  of 
sheep,  makmg  but  "  one  fold,  under  one  Shepherd," 
Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord. 

"  Gloeious  things  aee  spoken  of  thee,  O  city  of 
God  !  "  Bright  as  the  glory  is  which  history  reflects 
on  prophecy,  through  all  the  radiant  past,  it  is  but 
lost,  as  stars  at  noon,  in  the  effulgence  of  that  unful- 
filled career,  w^hich  God  has  traced  out  for  His  Church : 
"  the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all ;  "  f  "  making 
known  to  principalities  and  powers  in  heavenly  places 
the  manifold  wisdom  of  God ; "  J  united,  even  here 
and  now,  through  the  mysterious  communion  of  her 
heavenly  Head,  with  "  an  innumerable  company  of 
angels,"  and  with  "  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  per- 
fect," and  with  "  God  the  Judge  of  all ;  "  §  and,  when 
her  earthly  destinies  shall  be  accomplished,  and  the 
measure  of  her  glory  here  filled  up,  to  be  revealed  to 
men  and  angels,  as  "  the  holy  city,  the  new  Jerusalem, 
coming  down  from  God  out  of  heaven,  prepared,  as  a 
bride  adorned  for  her  husband ;  "  "  and  there  shall  be 

*  Terentius  Rufus,  a  Roman  officer,  with  a  ploughshare,  turned  up  the  foun- 
dations of  the  temple.  Mieah  had  said,  Ziou  shall  be  "  Ploughed  as  a  field." — 
iii.  12. 

f  Ephesians  i.  23.  X  Ephesians  iii.  10.  §  Hebrews  xii.  22,  23. 


THE    GLOEIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF   GOD.       515 

no  niglit  there,  and  tliey  need  no  candle,  neither  light 
of  the  sun,  for  the  Lord  God  giveth  them  light,  and 
they  shall  reign  forever  and  ever."*  Lay  it  to  heart, 
dear  brethren,  and,  as  "wise  men,"  "judge  ye  what  I 
say,"  that,  when  all  the  glories  of  the  Church  have  been 
rehearsed,  this  is  the  crowning  glory  of  them  all,  that 
she  is  "  glorious  in  holiness :  "  "  and  there  shall  in  no 
wise  enter  into  it  any  thing  that  defileth,  neither  what- 
soever worketh  abomination,  or  maketh  a  lie ;  but  they 
which  are  written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life."  f 

Her  FouNDATioisrs  are  upon  the  holy  hills.  The 
Lord  loveth  the  gates  of  Sign  more  than  all  the 

DWELLINGS    OF   JaCOB.       GlORIOUS  THINGS  ARE  SPOKEN  OF 

THEE,  O  CITY  OF  GoD ! "  The  Church,  of  which  these 
glowing  words  are  spoken,  is  a  body :  Christ,  its  head ; 
all  Christians,  "  members  in  particular."  It  is  6^  living 
body :  self  perpetuated,  "  after  the  power  of  an  endless 
life."  It  is  a  cumulative  body :  "  compacted  by  that 
which  every  joint  supplieth ;  and,  according  to  the  effec- 
tual working  in  the  measure  of  every  part,  making  in- 
crease of  itself."  \ 

From  these  scriptural  propositions,  obvious  infer- 
ences result.  If  the  Church  is  a  body^  it  may  be  found, 
and  felt,  and  verified,  as  such.  If  it  is  a  living  body, 
perpetuated  in  succession,  there  must  grow  out  of  it, 
reciprocally,  the  parental  and  the  filial  relation.  If  it 
be  cumulative  in  its  design,  its  several  portions  should 
combine  their  energies,  to  effect,  by  common  means,  the 
common  end. 

*  Revelation  xxi.  xxii.         f  Rev.  xxi.  2*7.        %  1  Cor.  xii.  2*7  ;  Ephesians  iv.  16. 


516       THE    GLOKIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE   CITY    OF   GOD. 

It  was  in  the  recognition  of  these  obvious  inferences, 
and  for  their  practical  illustration,  that  I  lately  left  my 
country  and  my  home.  The  Church  is  not  indigenous 
to  earth.  "  Her  foundations  are  upon  the  holy  hills," 
Her  grace  is  heaven-derived.  She  can  have  no  care  of 
souls,  but  by  His  appointment,  who  hath  said, "  all  souls 
are  mine."  ''^'  The  commission  of  her  ministry  must 
therefore  come  direct  from  Christ.  A  verifiable  succes- 
sion is  one  that  can  be  traced  upward,  through  all  its 
stages,  to  Himself.  The  declaration,  that  God  loves 
"  the  gates  of  Sion,  more  than  all  the  dwellings  of  Jacob  " 
— that,  of  all  the  interests  of  earth  the  Church  is  His 
especial  care — is  our  sufficient  warrant  to  believe,  that 
He  will  never  let  that  golden  chain  be  severed.  The 
nearest  link  of  it,  to  us,  of  this  Church,  is  the  Church 
of  England.  While  we  were  colonies  of  Great  Britain, 
Ave  were  of  the  same  ecclesiastical,  as  of  the  same  civil, 
community.  The  war  of  Independence  found,  and  left 
us,  without  Bishops.  The  consecration  service  of  the 
Church  of  England  prescribes  to  every  Bishop  elect, 
oaths  of  allegiance  and  supremacy  to  the  civil  ruler ; 
and  an  oath  of  obedience  to  the  Archbishop  of  the 
province.  These  obligations,  an  American  Bishoj:) 
could  not  assume.  Without  the  office  of  a  Bishop,  the 
Church  could  not  be  continued.  The  authority  of  the 
Episcopate  could  not  so  properly  be  sought  from  any 
other  quarter.  The  result  of  these  considerations  was 
an  act  of  Parliament,  empowering  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  or  of  York,  to  consecrate,  to  the  office  of 

*  Ezekicl  xviii.  4. 


THE    GLORIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF    GOD.       51T 

Bisliop,  persons,  being  citizens  of  countries  out  of  the 
British  dominions,  without  the  oaths  required  of  British 
subjects :  but,  as  a  counter]ooise  to  this,  with  the  pro- 
viso, that  such  consecration  should  convey  no  authority, 
immediately  or  mediately,  to  exercise  sacred  offices 
within  the  British  dominions.  By  the  consecrations 
thus  authorized,  was  conveyed,  the  valid,  verifiable 
succession  of  the  sacred  ministry,  with  the  inherent 
principle  of  self-perpetuation :  and  thus  was  constituted 
the  relation  of  a  mother,  and  a  daughter.  Church. 

Of  the  historical  results  of  that  transaction,  I  need 
not  speak.  The  three  Bishops  of  1787  have  been  more 
than  twelve  times  multiplied :  *  and,  where  a  solitary 
shepherd  tended,  here  and  there,  a  straggling  flock,  a 
thousand  pastors  f  now  have  charge  of  nearly  a  million 
of  souls.  Meanwhile,  the  proviso  of  the  Act  empower- 
ing consecration  kept  the  Mother  and  the  Daughter 
from  that  entire  co-operation  in  good  works,  which  is 
of  the  essence  of  Christian  communion,  and  constitutes 
the  active  catholicity  of  the  Church  ;  "  the  whole  body 
fitly  joined  together,  and  compacted  by  that  which  every 
joint  supplieth."  When,  therefore,  in  the  course  of  the 
present  year,  the  restrictions  of  the  j^roviso  were,  by 
Act  of  Parliament,  removed :  and,  immediately  there- 
upon, an  eminent  Clergyman  of  the  Church  of  En- 
gland, J  long  my  friend — proposing  the  consecration  of 
his  parish  Church,  the  most  magnificent  sacred  edifice 

*  The  Bishop  of  Delaware,  Dr.  Lee,  the  last  consecrated,  is  the  thirty-eighth. 
f  According  to  the   "  Church  Almanac,"  the  whole    number  of  the  Clergy 
is  1,113. 

X  The  Rev.  Walter  Farquhar  Hook,  D.D.,  Vicar  of  Leeds. 


518       THE    GLOEIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF    GOD. 

of  modern  times — as  tlie  fitting  occasion,  urged  me  to 
accept  the  overture  of  catholic  intercommunion,  tlius 
extended  to  the  American  Church ;  I  did  not  hesitate 
at  all,  as  to  the  point  of  duty,  but  resolved  to  go.  By 
the  good  hand  of  God  upon  me,  I  have  been  :  *  accom- 
plished the  result,  for  which  I  went :  and  am  now  here, 
in  answer  to  your  prayers,  to  blend  once  more  my 
voice  with  yours  in  praise  and  supplication ;  and  to  re- 
new, before  the  holy  altar,  the  solemn  vows  which 
bind  us,  as  one  sacred  brotherhood,  each  to  the  other, 
and  all,  through  Christ,  to  God.  You  will  desire  to 
know  of  my  reception ;  and  of  my  impressions  of  the 
Church  of  England,  as  aids,  encouragements  and  lessons, 
in  discharging  our  own  duty,  for  the  edifying  of  the 
Church. 

I.  Of  my  reception,  personally,  it  needs,  as  it  be- 
comes me,  that  I  say  but  little.  It  were  all  said,  when 
I  assure  you,  that  it  was  all  that  even  you,  dear  friends, 
could  msh.  The  gracious  Lord,  who  mixed  for  me  the 
cup  of  human  life,  has  ever  mingled  largely  with  it, 
that  best  of  earth's  ingredients,  human  love.  Never,  in 
fuller  measure,  than  now,  that  I  return  to  you  again. 
And  yet,  it  is  but  just  that  I  should  say — as  you  will 
take  delight  to  hear  it — that  blessed  draught,  the  taste 

*  The  Rev.  Benjamin  I.  Haight,  Rector  of  All  Saints'  Church,  New  York,  and 
now  also  Professor  of  Pastoral  Theology  and  Pulpit  Eloquence  in  the  General 
Theological  Seminary,  was  the  companion  of  my  journey,  the  sharer  and  promoter 
of  its  pleasures.  I  was  also  accompanied  by  two  young  laymen,  the  sons  of  very 
dear  friends ;  in  whom,  I  trust,  the  name  of  Warren  will  continue  to  be  identified 
with  Churchmanship  and  charity.  I  was  happy  to  have  so  many  and  such  wit- 
nesses of  the  "glorious  things"  of  "the  city  of  God." 


THE    GLORIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF    GOD.       519 

of  wliicli  I  know  so  well,  was  poured  for  me,  in  fullest 
measure,  at  every  stage  of  my  brief  pilgrimage  ;  and  I 
Lave  felt  the  beating  of  tlie  best  and  truest  hearts  of 
England,  as  I  now  feel  yours. 

But  mine  was  not  a  personal  enterprise.  I  went 
upon  a  catholic  errand  :  a  catholic  Bishop,  to  the  Bish- 
ops and  brethren  of  an  elder  branch  of  the  "  one  holy 
catholic,  and  apostolic  Church."  And  in  every  Bishop, 
and  in  every  member  of  that  ancient  household  of  the 
faith,  I  found  indeed  a  brother.  To  the  venerable 
Primate  of  all  England,  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, as  in  duty  bound,  I  first  presented  myself:  and 
never  shall  I  lose  the  impression  of  his  reception  of 
the  resolutions,  which  the  Convention  of  the  diocese 
adopted,  in  this  place,  on  the  day  before  I  left  you. 
He  is,  as  you  all  know,  the  subject  nearest  to  the  royal 
blood  ;  a  Bishop,  nearly  thirty  years ;  "  half-way,"  as  he 
expressed  it,  "  between  seventy  years  and  eighty ;  "  the 
true  impersonation  of  apostolic  meekness  sweetening 
apostolic  dignity.  When  he  read  those  noble  resolu- 
tions, marked  on  what  strictly  catholic  ground  they 
placed  my  visit,  and  felt  the  appeal  which  they  addressed, 
through  him,  to  his  own  Church,  as  "  our  venerable 
Mother,  the  bulwark  of  the  Reformation,  and  the  glory 
of  Christendom ; "  his  countenance  was  kindled,  his 
eye  filled,  he  rose  sj)ontaneously,  and  said,  with  an 
enthusiasm  scarce  his  own :  "  That  is  delightful,  that  is 
just  as  it  should  be,  I  am  rejoiced  at  this  ! "  And  such 
was  everywhere  the  feeling.  Every  Bishop,  all  the 
Clergy,  the  body  of  the  Laity,  responded  to  it  to  the  echo. 


520       THE   GLOEIOUS   THmGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF   GOD. 

On  tlie  first  occasion  of  my  presence  at  a  public 
meeting,  at  tlie  annual  distribution  of  tlie  prizes,  at 
King's  College,  London,  you  have  seen  in  wliat  affec- 
tionate and  lionourable  terms  tlie  Bisliop  of  London  * 
introduced  me,  as  "  tlie  prelate  of  a  sister  Churcli ;  "  and 
witb  wbat  wanntli  of  language  tlie  Arclibisliop  of  Canter- 
bury expressed  Ms  joy  at  the  occurrence.  And  if  you 
had  heard,  as  I  did,  the  resounding  cheers,  which,  in 
their  hearty  English  way,  threatened  to  raise  the  veiy 
ceiling  of  the  Hall ;  and  seen,  as  I  did,  the  beaming 
face,  the  swelling  nostril,  and  the  quivering  lip ;  and 
felt,  as  I  did,  the  electric  chain,  whose  pulses,  none  that 
has  felt  them  ever  can  mistake,  you  would  have  known, 
as  language  cannot  utter  it,  the  power  of  catholic  truth, 
maintained  in  catholic  love,  to  knit  together  Christian 
hearts  ;  you  would  have  realized  v/hat  that  means,  when 
the  Apostle  speaks  of  "  the  unity  of  the  Spirit  in  the 
bond  of  peace  ;  "  f  you  would  have  entered  to  the  full 
into  that  high,  exulting  strain,  "  now  therefore  ye  are 
no  more  strangers  and  foreigners,  but  fellow-citizens 
with  the  saints,  and  of  the  household  of  God."  J  Of 
being  a  stranger  and  a  foreigner  in  England,  the  thought 
was  never  present  with  me  for  one  moment.  Again  and 
again,  it  was  my  privilege  to  be  at  Visitations,  and  at 
other  gatherings  of  the  Clergy,  and  with  large  assem- 
blages of  Clergymen  and  Laymen.  Everywhere  the 
strife  was,  to  do  honour  to  the  sister  Church.  Every- 
where, the  report  of  her  stability  in  the  old  faith,  of  her 
adherence  to  the  primitive  order,  of  her  participation  in 

*  See  Memoir,  p.  276  f  Ephesians  iv.  3.  j^  Ephesiaus  i.  19. 


THE    GLOEIOUS    THES^GS    OF   THE    CITY    OF    GOD.       521 

the  Common  Prayers,  and  of  God's  blessing  on  His 
own  ordinance  in  her,  was  the  one  theme  that  filled  all 
hearts.  Everywhere,  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the 
American  Church  gave  interest  to  every  sentiment,  and 
unction  to  every  prayer.  And  many,  who  had  never 
before  seen  me,  and  could  never  see  me  more,  thronged 
to  embrace  the  sister  Church,  by  grasping,  as  a  life's 
remembrance,  the  hand  of  one  of  her  Bishops.  * 

Let  me  say  more  than  this.  You  all  know  what 
the  questions  are,  which,  at  this  time,  most  interest  the 
governments  of  the  two  countries ;  and,  especially,  how 
much  seems  to  depend  on  the  adjustment  of  one  seri- 
ous difficulty,  f  Now,  it  was  my  privilege,  in  traver- 
sing England,  to  meet,  in  different  parts  of  it,  with  all 
classes,  and  all  kinds  of  people ;  and  to  come  in  contact, 
from  my  office  and  my  errand,  as  few  have  done  before, 
with  what,  for  the  better  understanding  of  my  meaning, 
may  be  called  the  national  heart.  I  say,  upon  the  most 
abundant  evidence,  that  it  beats  with  all  a  brother's 
truth  and  fondness  toward  America.  I  say,  that  the 
blood  of  England  yearns,  with  instinctive  magnetism, 
to  its  own  current,  in  our  veins.  I  say,  that  peace  with 
America  J  is  the  first  prayer,  for  temporal  blessings,  at 

This  was  the  case  with  a  multitude  of  the  Clergy  at  Leeds,  after  the  Con- 
secnition. 

f  The  case  of  McLeod :  since  happily  adjusted.  It  was  a  subject  of  the 
deepest  solicitude  in  England ;  lest  by  it  the  concord  of  the  nations  should  be  in- 
terrupted. 

j^  A  distinguished  Englishman,  now  in  this  country,  who  has  enjoyed  the  very 
best  opportunities  to  know,  confirmed  this  statement,  most  positively.  His  illus- 
tration of  what  he  conceived  to  be  the  national  feeling  in  both  countries  was  this 
— a  demagogue,  in  England,  would  seek  popular  favour,  by  urging  peace  with 
America :  in  America,  by  urging  war  with  England.     He  was  rejoiced  at  my  as- 


522       THE    GLORIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF    GOD. 

every  English  altar,  and  by  every  English  hearth.  I 
say,  that  the  sentiment  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
at  the  public  meeting,  at  King's  College,  that  "  the  best 
pledge  of  a  perpetual  peace  between  the  nations,  is  the 
community  of  faith,  and  constant  intercourse  of  the  two 
Churches,"  is  the  most  popular  sentiment,  at  this  day, 
throughout  England.  And  I  say,  what  touches  most 
the  present  question,  and  is  most  important  to  all  hearts 
of  men,  if  they  would  hear  it,  that,  close  as  the  connec- 
tion of  the  blood  is  felt  to  be,  the  depth,  intensity  and 
tenderness  of  this  pervading  passion  spring  from  a  foun- 
tain deeper  down  in  every  pious  breast,  even  than  the 
most  immediate  life-drop  of  its  veins ;  the  fountain  of 
our  Christian  love,  as  bought  by  the  inestimable  pur- 
chase of  the  Saviour's  heart,  and  knit  together,  in  Him,* 


surance  that,  take  the  nation  through,  the  latter  portion  of  it  was  by  no  means 
just.  Of  the  peaceful  dispositions  of  the  present  ministry,  the  mission  of  Lord 
Ashburton  must  be  taken  as  a  proof.  Success  attend  it ! — Peace  with  the  world, 
was  the  prevailing  sentiment  in  all  the  speeches,  by  the  Cabinet  ministers,  at  the 
laying  of  the  corner  stone  of  the  Royal  Exchange,  by  the  Prince.  Sir  Robert 
Peel  said,  "  it  was  impossible  not  to  feel  that  it  was  the  spot  to  which  the  traffickers 
of  all  nations  will  resort,  where  they  will  obliterate  national  antipathies,  and  na- 
tional jealousies,  (cheers,)  and  will  form  those  engagements,  which  constitute  new 
guarantees  for  the  general  tranquillity  of  the  world.  (Loud  cheers.)  Gentlemen, 
his  Royal  Highness,  this  day,  has  laid  the  foundation,  not  merely  of  an  edifice  dedi- 
cated to  commerce  :  he  has  laid  the  foundation  of  a  temple  of  peace,  (loud  cheers ;) 
and  it  is  the  earnest  wish  of  her  Majesty's  Government,  that  the  future  progress 
and  destiny  of  that  edifice  may  correspond  with  the  favourable  auspices  under 
which  its  foundation  has  been  laid."  The  Duke  of  Wellington  said,  "  We  have 
met  here  this  day,  to  celebrate,  promote,  and  perpetuate  the  arts  and  advantages 
of  peace,  (loud  cheers ;)  and  I  trust  that  I  shall  never  again  hear,  in  my  time,  of 
the  celebration  of  the  arts  of  war."  (Continued  cheers.) — Surely,  the  world 
should  echo  these  distinguished  suffrages,  for  "  peace  on  earth  !  " 

*  "  We  ought  to  love  one  another,"  said  a  venerable  looking  Prebendary,  in 
the  Cathedral  at  Peterboroiigli,  who  was  presented  to  me,  as  I  waited  for  the 
Bishop,  for  a  moment,  with  my  excellent  friend  the  Dean  ;  "  we  ought  to  love  one 
another,  for  we  have  one  cause."     The  sentiment  was  universal. 


THE   GLOEIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF    GOD.       523 

as  one  body,  witli  one  Spirit,  "  one  Lord,  one  faith,  one 
baptism." 

So  it  was  ordered,  not  as  my  expectation  was,  but 
better  far,  in  all  respects,  that  the  immediate  occasion 
of  my  visit  did  not  occur,  until  I  had  quite  fulfilled  my 
catholic  errand,  in  visiting  the  brethren,  and  taking 
from  them  their  pledge.  The  gathering  at  Leeds,  the 
venerable  Archbishop  and  Metropolitan  of  York,  the 
Bishops  of  three  several  branches  of  the  Church,*  three 
hundred  surpliced  presbyters  from  every  quarter  of  the 
kingdom,  the  living  mass  that  filled  that  solemn  tem- 
ple ;  these,  and  the  blessing  from  the  Lord,  which 
rested,  as  I  trust,  on  that  occasion,  unexampled  since  the 
early  days  of  Catholic  intercourse,  f  were,  and  were  felt 
to  be,  the  appropriate  crown  of  this  first  act  of  perfect 
intercommunion  between  the  Mother  and  the  Daughter. 


*  The  venerable  Bishop  of  Ross  and  Argyle,  in  Scotland,  Dr.  Low,  was  present. 

f  The  English  Journals  dwell  with  much  impressiveness  on  this  interesting 
ceremony.  The  following  is  from  a  notice  of  it  in  the  British  Magazine.  "This 
long-expected  solemnity,  anticipated  with  such  deep  interest,  not  only  in  Leeds, 
and  throughout  England,  but,  we  may  almost  say,  throughout  Christendom,  took 
place  on  Thursday,  2d  September ;  and  since  those  early  days  in  which  the  conse- 
cration of  Churches  was  solemnized,  in  the  presence  of  a  full  synod  of  bishops, 
never,  perhaps,  was  any  similar  event  of  more  '  devout  magnificence.'  The 
presence  of  the  Lord  Archbishop  of  York,  the  Metropolitan,  of  the  Lord  Bishop 
of  Ripon,  the  Diocesan,  and  of  two  venerable  fathers  of  distinct  Churches,  the 
Bishops  of  Ross  and  Argyle,  and  of  New  Jersey,  of  hundreds  of  dignitaries  and 
other  clergy  from  every  diocese  in  England,  of  thousands  of  every  rank,  age  and 
calling  among  the  laity ;  all  assembled  for  the  purpose  of  dedicating,  with  a 
solemn  and  imposing  ritual,  a  noble  temple,  rich  in  architectural  skill  and  orna- 
ment, to  the  service  of  Almighty  God,  was  a  scene  of  splendour  and  solemnity 
far  above  the  power  of  language  to  describe."  "  The  Consecration  Sermon  was 
preached  by  the  Bishop  of  New  Jersey.  As  all  the  sermons  preached  on  this  occa- 
sion are  about  to  be  published,  it  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  on  this  discourse.  Never 
before  had  an  American  Bishop  ofiBciated  in  such  a  service  in  the  English  Church ; 
and,  perhaps,  never  till  then  had  any  Bishop  traversed  three  thousand  miles,  for  a 
similar  purpose." 


524       THE   GLOEIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF   GOD. 

Witli  what  enthusiasm  the  connection  of  the  two  was 
there  regarded ;  what  words  of  tenderness  and  love 
were  used  in  the  Address  presented  by  the  Clergy  to 
the  venerable  Archbishop  ;  with  what  inimitable  grace 
he  caught  the  very  word  which  best  expressed  the  mo- 
tive of  my  journey,  the  filial  feeling  towards  the  Church 
of  England ;  with  what  an  overwhelming  acclamation 
the  reference  to  this  Christian  intercourse,  as  the  preser- 
vative and  pledge  of  peace  between  the  countries,  was 
received,  you  have  already  seen.  I  w^as  devoutly  thank- 
ful, that,  into  the  cup,  now  full  to  overflowing,  no  other 
drop  was  to  be  poured.  I  felt  that  the  solitude  and 
silence  of  the  waste  of  waters  was  my  most  ejffectual 
refuge  from  the  rush  of  feelings,  that  unmanned  me, 
quite.  And,  with  a  j^rayer,  that  bore  my  heart  up 
with  it,  for  every  blessing  from  on  high,  upon  the 
Church  of  England,  and  the  generous  nation  that  lies 
sheltered  in  her  bosom,  I  tore  myself  from  friends  and 
brethren,  true  and  dear  as  ever  God  bestowed  on  man ; 
and  turned  from  my  Mother  Church  and  Father  land, 
to  this,  my  children's  home,  and  you,  the  precious  flock, 
which  God  has  left  with  me  to  feed. 

II.  And,  now,  as  to  my  imj^ressions  of  the  Church 
of  England.  Let  me  say,  once  for  all,  she  is  awake 
to  her  responsibilities,  and  to  her  privileges.'''     To  the 

*  The  following  editorial  paragraplis,  in  a  recent  number  of  the  Times,  by  no 
means  overstate  the  case  : — 

"  It  is  a  moment,  as  all  must  see,  full  of  very  serious  import  to  the  Church. 
An  element,  which  had  lain  in  the  English  Church  almost  unnoticed  by  the  mass 
of  observers,  has  sprung  up  in  the  course  of  ten  years  into  unparalleled  energy ; 
and  its  sudden  appearance  has  induced  a  contest,  on  which  the  most  sanguine 


THE    GLOEIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF   GOD.       525 

one,  she  is  girding  herself  witli  giant  strength.  The 
other,  she  is  clasping  to  her  bosom  with  the  fervour  of 
a  woman's  love. 

i.  I  see  that  this  is  so  in  the  anxious  care  with 

must  look  with  no  light  apprehension.  Meantime,  one  result  of  this  movement 
has  been  a  most  remarkable  increase  of  exertion  in  the  Church  itself,  as  a  Church. 
She  has  put  forward  more  boldly  her  claims  to  efficiency — has  attempted  to  act 
and  to  organize — has  originated  good  works,  and  has  claimed  assistance  from  her 
members  in  a  more  uncompromising  tone  than  has  long  been  heard — and  has  justified 
her  claim  by  the  increasing  zeal  and  knowledge  of  her  Clergy.  There  is  every- 
where a  feeling  that  something  is  about  to  happen.  Much  is  happening ;  and  the 
minds  of  men — we  do  not  mean  of  large  uninformed  masses,  open  to  any  sudden 
impulse,  and  ready  to  relapse  on  any  momentary  check,  or  from  mere  satiety,  into 
their  original  inaction,  but  of  serious,  thinking,  educated,  active  men — have  been 
acquiring  a  tone  which,  whether  it  be  called  determination,  or  excitement,  or  en- 
thusiasm, at  any  rate  looks  very  much  like  the  stuff  out  of  which  great  deeds  and 
great  works  spring — for  good  or  for  harm. 

"We  know  it  is  a  universal  tendency  to  overrate  the  importance  of  what  passes 
immediately  before  us — to  think  every  movement  a  revolution,  every  progress  a 
reformation,  while  it  is  happening  under  our  own  eyes.  Yet  we  cannot  therefore 
modify  our  feeling  that  in  the  history  of  the  English  Church,  the  present  is  one 
of  those  cardinal  occasions  which  may  affect  its  character  for  centuries.  Those 
who  have  watched  events  with  any  degree  of  care,  must  have  seen  that  it  is  not 
merely  that  unexpected  dogmas  have  been  supported — isolated  practices  revived 
— new  language  dwelt  on — hut  that  fresh  wants,  fresh  feelings,  a  fresh  tone  of 
mind,  fresh  aims  and  desires,  have  been  called  up,  spreading  where  they  are  least 
looked  for,  moving  forward  in  the  minds  or  works  of  separate  individuals,  with  a 
strange  mixture  of  union  and  independence — gradually  fastening  upon  one  person 
after  another,  one  class  after  another,  one  subject  after  another — theology,  philos- 
ophy, history,  politics — and  this  with  a  rapidity  almost  equally  observed  on  by 
those  who  regard  it  with  admiration,  distrust  or  aversion.  This  phenomenon,  by 
right  or  by  wrong,  has  created  or  attracted  to  itself  an  extraordinary  mass  of  in- 
dustry, talent,  and  enthusiasm — possessing,  withal,  this  ominous  peculiarity,  that 
it  has  exercised  its  influence  hitherto  among  the  educated,  the  Clergy,  and  the 
young.  Further,  while  within  its  own  circle  it  has  exercised  a  direct  influence,  on 
the  character  of  which  it  is  not  our  wish  here  to  pronounce,  it  has  exercised  be- 
yond that  circle  an  indirect  one  in  turning  the  eyes  of  men,  "with  no  inconsider- 
able expectations,  towards  the  Church  and  the  Clergy — has  suggested,  or  aided 
to  suggest,  a  stricter  standard  of  clerical  duty,  and  a  truer  appreciation  of  the 
clerical  dignity  and  character — has  heightened,  and  in  some  measure  directed, 
that  general  sense,  that  more  ought  to  be  done  in  and  by  the  Church  and  Church- 
men, than  has  hitherto  been  thought  sufficient ;  and,  finally,  has  given  occasion  to 
that  energetic  hostility,  which  every  novelty,  when  it  becomes  formidable,  usually 
encounters,  and  which  threatens  a  struggle  of  which  it  is  easier  to  see  the  begin- 
ning than  to  foretell  the  end." 


526       THE    GLORIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE    CITY   OF   GOD. 

wMdi  she  is  devoting  all  lier  energies  to  the  religious 
education  of  her  children.  I  sj^eak  not  merely  of  tlie 
cateclietical  and  other  parochiiil  instruction,  wMcli  is 
felt  to  tlie  full  measure  of  its  value,  and  proportionately 
plied.  I  speak  not  now  of  the  schools,  and  colleges, 
and  universities,  founded  by  ancient  piety,  and  preg- 
nant now,  and  teeming  with  the  very  spirit  of  their 
founders ;  nurseries  of  men  in  Church  or  State,  with 
minds  well  fitted  for  that  highest  service  of  a  man,  to 
which  their  hearts  are  dedicate,  the  service  of  the  true 
and  living  God.  I  sj)eak  rather  of  the  devotion  of  the 
highest  energies  and  of  the  most  j)ersevering  patience 
on  the  part  of  statesmen  and  of  prelates,  and  of  the 
whole  body  of  the  Clergy  and  the  Laity,  to  Christianize 
the  education  of  the  people,  by  bringing  it,  where  God 
first  placed  it,  in  the  Church.*  More  than  enough  of 
such  societies  as  that  "  for  the  diffusion  of  useful  knowl- 
edge," so  called,  in  express  exclusion  of  all  knowledge 
of  the  soul  and  God,  have  they  already  had.  More  than 
enough  of  plans  of  education  by  the  government,  pro- 
fessing to  include  the  children  of  all  who  take  the  name 
of  Christians ;  and,  that  they  might  do  so,  excluding 
Christianity  altogether.  The  commssion  of  the  Saviour 
to  the  Apostles,  to  go,  teach  all  nations,  is  understood 
and  felt  to  have  descended,  through  all  ages,  to  their 
successors ;  and  to  include  emphatically  those  who 
alone  can  properly  and  hopefully  be  taught,  their  infant 
children.     And  the  devout  determination  is — and  skill, 

*  "  Go  ye,  and  make  disciples  of  all  nations  " — "  teaching  them."     St.  Matthew 
xxviii.  19,  20. 


THE    GLORIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF    GOD.       527 

and  power,  and  wealtli,  and  piety,  are  now  enlisted,* 
which  give  assurance  of  that  blessing,  which  is  itself 
success — that  every  child  of  England,  no  matter  what 
his  lot  in  life  may  be,  shall  have  the  privilege  of  being- 
trained  up,  under  Christian  teachers,  in  a  Christian 
school,  with  Christian  prayers,  "  in  the  nurture  and 
admonition  of  the  Lord."  The  holy  ambition  of  that 
great  and  understanding  nation  is,  to  realize  the  gra- 
cious, scriptural  promise,  "All  thy  childi'en  shall  be 
taught  of  the  Lord."  The  blessing  thus,  and  only 
thus,  shall  certainly  be  theirs,  "  Great  shall  be  the  peace 
of  thy  childi'en." 

ii.  I  see  that  the  Church  of  England  is  awake  to  her 
responsibilities  and  privileges,  in  the  immense  exertions 
which  are  making^  everytchere,  to  supply  her  whole  vast 
population  xoitli  the  means  of  grace.  The  present  has 
been  called  in  England  "  a  Church  building  age."  And 
it  is  so.  Everywhere,  new  Churches  are  arising.  Every- 
where, old  Churches  are  repaired,  enlarged  and  beauti- 
fied.f  Several  of  the  present  Bishops  have  consecrated, 
each  one  hundred  Churches.    When  the  Bishop  of  Lon- 

*  I  allude  here  more  particularly  to  the  admirable  National  Society  for  the 
Education  of  the  Poor,  of  which  the  Rev.  John  Sinclair  is  the  able  and  efficient 
Secretary.  The  venerable  Society  for  the  Promotion  of  Christian  Knowledge, 
is  a  most  powerful  agent  in  the  cause  of  Christian  education,  through  its  giant 
wielding  of  the  press.  Nothing  was  more  animating  and  encouraging,  of  all  that 
I  saw  in  England,  than  its  immense  stores  of  Bibles,  Prayer  Books,  Tracts  ;  and 
whatever  else  tends  to  diffuse  sound  learning  and  true  wisdom. 

f  The  amount  of  grants  for  additional  accommodation  at  public  worship,  as 
stated  in  the  twenty-third  report  of  the  Church  Building  Society,  is  £348,036  ; 
($1,740,180  ;)  while  the  additional  sittings  reported  amount  to  576,356,  of  which 
406,336  are  free.  Add  the  new  accommodations,  as  stated  in  the  21st  Report  of 
Her  Majesty's  Commissioners  (349,889,  of  which  193,412  are  free),  and  it  makes 
926,245  new,  of  which  599,748  arc  free  sittings. 


528     THE  aLOEious  tiiij^gs  of  the  city  of  god. 

don,  a  few  years  since,  proposed  a  plan  for  building 
fifty  Cliurclies,  in  tliat  city,  tliere  were  those,  and  not  a 
few,  to  say  to  Mm,  as  one  once  said  to  Paul,  "  Thou  art 
beside  thyself."  The  fifty,  within  four  or  six,  are  built ; 
and  it  is  his  purpose  soon  to  propose  the  erection  of  as 
many  more.  Again  and  again,  my  visits  in  the  country 
were  cheered  by  the  sound  of  workmen,  erecting,  on 
the  estate,*  and  at  the  cost  of  those,  whose  hospitality 
I  was  enjoying,  chapels,  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
tenantry  and  neighbouring  j^arishioners.  In  Hursley, 
the  parochial  charge  of  one  whom  we  all  know  and 
love,  as  the  author  of '"  the  Christian  Year,"  I  visited 
two  beautiful  new  chapels, — there  is  another  there, 
besides  the  parish  Church, — l3ut  just  completed,  one 
of  them  at  the  sole  charge  of  the  noble  patron  of 
the  living.f  Nor  is  it  only  by  the  erection  of  new 
Churches,  or  the  enlargement  of  the  old,  that  increased 
provision  is  made  for  worship  in  the  Church ;  but,  in 
the  Metroj)olis,  and  other  portions  of  the  kingdom, 
dissenting  cha|)els  are  constantly  abandoned,  sold  by 
their  proprietors,  and  bought,  and  set  apart,  as  chapels 
of  the  Church  of  England. 

iii.  Again,  I  see  that  the  Church  of  England  is  most 
thoroughly  awake,  in  tJie  liigh  standard  ivMch  her  Clergy 


*  Since  my  return,  a  beautiful  chapel,  erected  by  Sir  Thomas  Dyke  Acland, 
Bart.,  M.  P.,  on  his  estates,  at  Killerton,  has  been  completed  and  consecrated. 
The  blessed  Sunday,  which  I  spent  with  that  delightful  Christian  family,  is  among 
my  greenest  memories  of  England. 

f  Sir  William  Heathcote,  Bart.,  M.  P.,  of  Hursley  Park,  of  whose  most  gener- 
ous hospitality  we  liberally  partook.  I  never  felt  the  value  of  sanctified  wealth 
more  strongly,  than  in  the  power  and  will  combined,  to  build  a  church,  and  to 
present  to  the  care  of  it  a  pastor,  such  as  Keble. 


THE   GLOEIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF   GOD.       529 

entertain  of  pastoral  duty.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say, 
that  we,  of  this  Church — of  myself,  at  least,  I  may  take 
liberty  to  speak — may  learn  of  them  ;  and  find  our  lack 
of  service  constantly  reproved  by  their  devotion.  Of 
the  body  of  the  parochial  Clergy,  it  is  true,  to  the  letter, 
that  they  are  spending  and  being  spent,  for  Christ. 
The  demand  for  ministrations  exceeds  the  supply,  an 
hundred  fold.  In  parishes,  where  ten  or  twenty  labour- 
ers could  find  abundant  work — parishes  of  fifty  or  an 
hundred  thousand  souls, — the  Rector,  vrith  his  two  or 
three  or  four  laborious  Curates,  wears  his  life  out,  in 
continual  and  unequal  toil.  What  with  the  increased 
attention  to  the  schools  ;  what  with  assiduous  devotion 
to  the  sick  and  poor ;  what  with  the  frequent,  often 
daily,  public  services  ;  what  with  the  thousand  various 
calls  to  every  work  of  piety  and  charity,  the  Clergy  sink 
and  fail  beneath  their  load  :  or  are  obliged  to  seek,  in 
rest  and  foreign  climes,  the  hope  of  longer  service.  The 
pastoral  care  is  held  as  one  which  cannot  be  delegated, 
even  in  its  least  details.  A  minister  is  never,  but  on  the 
rarest  occasions,  out  of  his  parish.  Exchange  of  services 
is  most  uncommon.  The  shepherd  knows  his  own  sheep, 
and  goes  in  and  out  among  them,  and  they  hear  his 
voice,  and  follow  him. 

iv.  It  is  in  the  interest  manifested  hy  tlie  people  in 
the  word  and  ordinances^  that  I  see  a  further  proof, 
that  the  Church  of  England  is  most  thoroughly  awake. 
Every  seat  in  every  Chiu-ch  is  filled.  The  sea  of  faces, 
that  you  look  down  at,  from  the  pulpit,  is  as  animating 

as  it  is  amazing.     You  are  struck  with  the  quietness, 
VOL.  IV. — 34 


530   THE  GLOEIOUS  THINGS  OF  THE  CITY  OF  GOD. 

order,  and  decorum  of  the  house  of  God.  You  are  struck 
with  the  attention  of  the  servants  of  the  sanctuary,  in 
providing  places  for  the  strangers  that  come  in.  You 
are  struck  by  the  devotional  air  and  manner  of  the 
worshippers.  You  are  struck  by  their  attention  to  the 
service,  the  universal  reading  of  the  lessons  in  their 
little  Bibles,  the  universal  chorus  of  the  worshij),  in 
confession,  and  petition,  in  creed,  and  psalm,  and 
anthem.  I  was  present  and  officiated  in  Churches, 
under  almost  every  circumstance  :  in  the  Metropolis,  in 
towns  and  villages,  and  in  the  rural  parishes.  Every- 
where, I  saw  the  house  of  God  well  filled,  and  His 
worship  reverently  honoured.  It  is  He,  indeed,  who 
sees  the  heart.  But  the  outward  aspect,  is  of  men  in 
earnest  for  their  souls. 

V.  But  I  have  not  yet  touched  the  point  of  chief 
reliance,  as  to  the  impression  that  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land is  awake.  "  Love  is  life's  only  sign."  "  He  that 
loveth  not,  knoweth  not  God."  As  a  tree  when  it 
ceases  to  strike  down  deeper  roots,  and  shoot  out  wider 
branches,  has  begun  already  to  decay ;  so,  a  Church, 
that  goes  not  out  of  itself,  in  search  of  other  souls,  is 
struck  with  death.  Glorious,  in  this  respect,  are  the 
true  signs  of  life,  in  ivorhs  of  universal  love^  within  the 
Church  of  England.  As  she  compasses  the  world  with 
her  commerce,  so  she  is  com^^assing  it  now  with  her 
charity.  To  every  colony  of  Britain — and  the  sun  sets 
not  upon  the  chain  of  her  possessions — she  has  resolved, 
God  being  her  helper,  to  send  forth  a  Bishop.*     The 

*  Those  to  follow  immediately  after  New  Zealand,  are  in  the  following  order  : 


THE    GLOEIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF   GOD.       531 

noble  enterprise  has  been  responded  to,  tliroiighout  tlie 
Cliurcli,  as  if  by  acclamation.  And,  on  Thursday  next, 
if  it  please  God,  a  presbyter  is  to  be  consecrated,  to 
that  forlornest  hope  of  human  nature,  savage  and  canni- 
bal New  Zealand.* 

1.  And,  mark  how  God  Himself  attests  the  truth 
of  these  impressions,  that  the  Church  of  England  is 
awake,  and  faithful  to  her  trust.  How  long  is  it  since 
the  heart  of  every  man  among  us,  since  the  universal 
heart  of  Christendom,  trembled  for  the  Chm'ch  of  Eng- 
land ?  The  kings  of  the  earth  did  seem  to  have  set 
themselves,  and  the  rulers  to  have  taken  counsel  to- 
gether against  her.  Already,  her  enemies  counted  on 
her  as  one  forsaken  of  her  God ;  and  anticipated  the 


for  the  Mediterranean  (to  reside  at  Valetta,  in  Malta,  with  the  title  of  Bishop  of 
Gibraltar) ;  of  New  Brunswick  ;  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope ;  of  Van  Dieman's 
Land  ;  and  of  Ceylon. 

*  The  Rev.  George  A.  Selwyn,  Curate  of  Windsor,  has  since  been  consecrated 
Bishop  of  New  Zealand.  I  had  the  pleasure  to  make  his  acquaintance  ;  and  can 
congratulate  the  cause  of  Missions  most  heartily,  on  his  selection  for  tliat  interest- 
ing outpost.  The  hour,  in  Mr.  Coleridge's  garden,  at  Eton,  in  full  and  free  dis- 
cussion of  the  modes  of  Missionary  work,  will  never  be  forgotten,  I  am  sure,  by 
either  of  us.  The  following  notice  of  some  of  his  plans,  is  from  the  Englishman's 
Magazine. 

"  As  soon  as  possible  after  setting  foot  in  New  Zealand,  it  is  his  intention  to 
use  as  a  temporary  Church,  a  tent  which  he  carries  with  him  for  that  purpose  ;  an 
altar,  with  its  necessary  appurtenances,  being  erected  in  its  eastern  end.  Here, 
the  daily  service  of  our  Church  will  be  commenced,  on  the  first  morning  after  the 
Bishop's  arrival,  never  thenceforth  to  be  silenced  till  the  end  of  all  things. 

"  A  piece  of  ground  will  next  be  marked  out  and  consecrated  for  the  site  of 
the  future  Cathedral ;  not  with  any  intention  of  erecting  hastily  a  building,  which 
might,  by  courtesy,  bear  that  name,  but  that  the  remains  of  those  who  depart  in 
the  faith,  may  be  interred  in  consecrated  ground ;  and,  if  need  be,  that  a  tem- 
porary wooden  edifice  may  serve  at  present  for  the  oifices  of  prayer  and  praise. 
In  a  country  where  labour  is  worth  three  times  as  much  as  it  is  in  England,  the 
erection  of  a  choir  is  to  the  most  sanguine  mind  as  much  as,  perhaps  more  than, 
can  be  hoped  for  during  the  present  generation.  But,  whatever  is  built,  will  be 
built  solidly  and  substantially,  and  as  our  ancestors  built." 


532       THE   GLORIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF   GOD. 

savage  exultatioii  of  her  overilirow.  But,  as  tlie  Hiancl 
once  rasUy  laid  upon  the  ark  was  struck  witk  death,* 
so  have  they  who  conspired  against  her  altars,  and  her 
towers,  faded  away,  in  their  strength.  The  very  acts 
by  which  the  ministry  hoped  to  remove  the  Church  out 
of  the  way  of  their  mad  purposes,  bringing  together,  in 
a  godless  league,  the  Romish  and  the  Atheist  influence, 
for  their  own  maintenance  in  power,  recoiled  upon 
their  head.  The  blow  which  fell  on  the  cathedrals, 
was  felt  in  every  heart.  The  men  of  England  remem- 
bered their  fathers,  and  their  fathers'  God.  They  felt 
that  theii'  own  spiritual  heritage,  and  their  children's 
priceless  patrimony — a  pure  faith,  with  a  spiritual  wor- 
ship, in  a  scriptui'al  Church — was  in  danger  of  being 
wrested  from  them.  They  came  up  "  to  the  help  of  the 
Lord,  against  the  mighty  :  "  and  they  who  had  vainly 
boasted,  that  if  the  Church  were  but  removed,  they 
could  do  well  enough,  have  learned  what  that  means, 
"  Whosoever  shall  fall  upon  this  stone  shall  be  broken ; 
but  on  whomsoever  it  shall  fall,  it  will  grind  him  to 
powder."f  The  reaction  of  the  national  heart,  in  favour 
of  the  national  Church,  calm,  sober,  quiet,  constitutional, 
has  changed  the  politics  of  England ;  J  and  given  to 

*  2  Samuel  vi.  Ql.  t  St.  Luke.  xx.  10. 

jj.  This  has  been  thought  by  some  an  overstatement.  But  they  know  not  the 
influence  which  the  Church  of  England  has  with  hearts.  I  content  myself  with 
what  must  be  regarded  an  intelligent  and  impartial  authority,  the  following 
editorial  article  from  the  Journal  des  Debats  at  Paris. 

"  The  Church  was  the  power  before  which  the  Reform  Ministry  fell.  The  po- 
litical reasons  for  their  downfall  are  only  secondary  ;  they  fell  more  especially 
because  they  were  beheved  to  be  hostile  to  the  Church.  We  must  bear  in  mind 
that  England  is  above  all  things  a  Protestant  nation.  In  France,  the  state  recog- 
nizes all  religions.     In  England,  it  recognizes  but  one.     The  Sovereign  of  Great 


THE    GLOEIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE   CITY    OF    GOD.       533 

her  a  ministry,  wliich  for  its  own  cotnpacted  strength, 
and  for  the  public  confidence  which  it  enjoys,*  gives 
promise  of  stability,  and  of  prosperity,  unknown  for 
years  and  years  before. 

2.  Again,  I  see  the  signal  j^roof  of  blessings  from 
the  Lord,  in  the  character  of  those  who  are  now  filling, 
or  are  rising  up  to  fill,  the  highest  places  of  honour  and 
of  power.  The  time  was,  and  that  not  long  ago,  when 
among  all  the  students  of  either  University,  there  Avas 
scarcely  one  communicant ;  when  a  little  knot  of  holy 
men,  in  either  house  of  Parliament,  that  dared  to  "  pro- 
fess and  call  themselves  Christians,"  must  take  their  ac- 
count in  being  pointed  out,  invidiously,  as  "  Saints." 
Now,  the  spirit  of  the  Universities,  and  most  especially 
of  Oxford,  is  a  religious  spirit.  Men  of  unquestiona- 
ble piety  fill  some  of  the  highest  places  in  the  govern- 
ment.    And  there  is  a  band  of  young  men,f  in  and  out 

Britain  was  Protestant,  before  becoming  Sovereign  ;  she  forfeits  her  crown  upon 
changing  her  rehgion.  You  are  to  reflect  that  in  England,  the  name  of  Protes- 
tantism is  associated  with  the  idea  of  national  independence,  as  the  name  of  Popery 
is  with  that  of  foreign  domination  ;  and  then  you  will  comprehend  with  what  in- 
dignation the  English  saw  their  government  beneath  the  yoke  of  O'Connell,  the 
representative  of  Ireland  and  of  Popery."  "This  reaction  of  England  against 
the  very  person  of  O'Connell,  is  one  of  the  most  striking  facts  which  have  resulted 
from  the  late  elections.  The  ministry  was  already  lost ;  when,  rashly  touching 
the  corn  laws,  it  precipitated  its  fall." 

*  This,  too,  is  doubted  ;  because  only  one  side  gets  a  hearing  in  this  country. 
I  confirm  it,  by  the  facts  that,  since  Sir  Robert  Peel's  accession  to  power,  the 
deposits  in  the  Savings  Banks  have  increased;  the  excise,  which  indicates  the 
ratio  of  consumption,  has  increased  ;  and  the  municipal  elections,  the  nearest  to 
a  popular  sufifrage,  under  the  Reform  Bill,  have  gone  strongly  for  the  Conservative 
interest.  Moreover,  on  that  toughest  of  all, trial  questions,  the  duty  on  corn,  the 
majority  of  91,  with  which  he  came  in,  has  grown  to  123. 

t  I  might  name  hundreds.  One,  I  may  name,  without  being  thought  invid- 
ious, the  Rt.  Hon.  Wm.  E.  Gladstone,  M.  P.,  author  of  "  The  State  in  its  relations 
to  the  Church,"  and  of  "  Christian  Principles  considered  in  their  Results  ; "  now 
the  President  of  the  Board  of  Trade,  and  Master  of  the  Mint. 


534      THE   GLOEIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE   CITY   OF   GOD. 

of  Parliament,  whose  hearts  God  hath  touched,  increas- 
ing rapidly  in  mimber,  and  of  the  loftiest  mark  for  tal- 
ents, learning,  wealth,  and  rank,  whose  highest  aim 
it  is  to  serve,  even  in  humblest  place,  the  Church  of 
God;  and  whose  determination  it  is,  in  His  great 
name  and  strength,  to  make  her  a  praise  and  glory  in 
the  earth.  * 

3.  I  see  a  proof,  still  farther,  of  God's  blessing  on 
the  Church  of  England,  for  her  faithfulness  to  Him,  in 
the  increasing  unity  among  her  members.  It  is  the 
Lord  who  "  maketh  men  to  be  of  one  mind  in  a  house." 
When  a  man's  ways  please  Him,  "  He  causeth  even  his 
enemies  to  be  at  peace  with  him."  For  many  years, 
there  has  existed  in  England,  in  addition  to  the  two 

*  I  know  not  when  I  have  been  more  impressed  with  the  conviction  that  the 
English  is  a  religious  nation,  than  in  meeting  accidentally  with  the  following 
prayer.  I  was  in  England  at  the  time  of  the  late  election.  I  found  it  in  the 
hands  of  a  pious  layman.  It  had  been  widely  circulated  ;  and,  I  doubt  not,  faith- 
fully used.  I  begged  a  copy  of  it,  which  I  keep  as  a  treasure.  What  may  we 
not  hope  from  an  election  conducted  under  such  auspices  ? — I  know  men  will 
charge  corruption :  and  where  there  are  men,  there  will  be  corruption.  But  even 
this,  He  who  heareth  the  prayer  can  overrule. 

"  A  PRAYER  FOR  THE  NATIONAL  CONSTITUENCY. 
"  Almighty  God,  who  rulest  in  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth,  and  whose  provi. 
dence  guideth  and  governeth  the  hearts  of  men,  to  execute  Thy  will,  look  favour- 
ably, we  pray  Thee,  at  the  present  momentous  crisis,  upon  this  Church  and  nation ; 
and  at  this  time,  so  direct  the  judgment  of  the  constituency  of  the  realm,  that 
they  may  consider  the  elective  franchise  as  a  sacred  trust,  to  be  exercised  to  Thy 
honour,  and  to  the  welfare  of  Thy  people  :  and  grant  that  under  this  persuasion, 
they  may  elect  none  as  their  representatives  in  the  great  council  of  the  nation, 
but  'men  fearing  God,  and  hating  covetousness';  bearing  a  hearty  and  zealous 
affection  to  the  constitution  of  their  country  in  Church  and  State,  averse  from 
change,  and  deeply  imbued  with  reverence  for  law  and  order,  and  a  sacred  regard 
for  the  rights  of  property ;  that  so  the  interest  of  all  orders  and  degrees  of  men 
being  duly  consulted,  and  impartially  maintained,  peace  and  happiness,  truth  and 
justice,  religion  and  piety,  may  increasingly  flourish  and  abound  amongst  us. 
Grant  this,  0  Lord,  we  beseech  Thee,  through  the  merits  of  Thy  Son,  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord,  and  by  the  aid  of  Thy  Holy  Spirit.     Amen." 


THE   GLORIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF   GOD.       535 

venerable  institutions  "for  the  Propagation  of  t"he  Gos- 
pel in  foreign  parts,"  and  "  for  tlie  Proraotion  of  Chris- 
tian Knowledge,"  "  the  Church  Missionary  Society." 
Without  referring  to  the  reasons  for  it,  or  questioning 
— ^what  none  can  question — the  piety  and  excellence  of 
its  first  founders,  and  munificent  supporters,  the  last- 
named  Society  did  not  enjoy  the  general  patronage  of 
the  Church.  An  arrangement,  in  which  the  Bishop  of 
London  was  chiefly  instrumental,  has  lately  been  ac- 
complished, which  places  the  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury eflPectively  at  its  head ;  and  which  will  bring  the 
Bishops,  and  the  body  of  the  Clergy,  into  connection 
with  it.  Thus,  in  that  greatest  of  all  works,  the  work 
of  Christian  Missions,  the  Chui^ch  of  England  will  go 
forward,  with  unbroken  front. 

4.  Finally,  I  see  the  highest  proof  that  God  is  bless- 
ing the  Church  of  England  for  her  fidelity  to  her  great 
trust,  in  that  He  is  opening  now  the  way  by  which  she 
may  impart  to  others  the  precious  deposit  with  which 
He  has  so  long  honoured  her.  Before  this  time,  the  pre- 
liminaries are  doubtless  all  adjusted,  for — what  I  was 
urged  with  the  utmost  importunity  to  w^ait  and  witness 
— the  consecration  of  a  Bishop  for  Jerusalem,  by  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  at  the  instance,  and  partly  on 
the  endowment,  of  the  King  of  Prussia.  My  brethren, 
what  a  theme  for  lofty  and  adoring  contemplation. 
How  powerful  the  appeal,  for  love,  and  gratitude,  and 
praise,  to  every  faithful  heart !  The  hill  of  Zion,  God's 
chosen  seat,  the  scene  of  the  death-agonies  of  His  dear 
Son,  the  consecrated  cynosure  of  Christendom,  so  long 


536       THE   GLOEIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE   CITY    OF   GOD. 

deserted  of  the  Lord,  so  long  trodden  down  by  tlie 
Gentiles,  tlie  Crescent  towering  above  the  Cross,  now  to 
receive  the  Gospel  in  the  Church,  from  that  same  dim- 
mest and  remotest  speck  of  Western  Europe,  which,  in 
God's  providence,  became  the  nursing  mother  of  the 
Chm-ch,  here  in  this  Western  wilderness !  "  What 
hath  God  wrought !  "  Truly,  "  His  judgments  are  un- 
searchable, and  His  ways  past  finding  out."  "The 
Lord  hath  made  bare  His  holy  arm  in  the  eyes  of  all 
the  nations ;  and  all  the  ends  of  the  earth  shall  see  the 
salvation  of  God." 

The  rapid  sketch  thus  famished  of  its  present  pos- 
ture, and  its  future  prospects,  must  have  suggested  to 
youi'  minds  the  inference,  that,  these  things  being  so, 
"  a  great  door,  and  effectual,"  is  opened,  for  the  Church 
of  England,  of  blessings,  to  herself,  and  to  the  world. 
And  certainly  it  is  so.  At  no  former  period  has  she 
stood  in  such  a  position,  or  enjoyed  such  opportunities. 
Nay,  I  greatly  doubt  if  any  portion  of  the  Church,  since 
the  Apostles'  times,  has  had,  within  itself,  such  power  to 
bless  mankind,  and  glorify  the  glorious  King  of  Saints. 

i.  But  doubts,  in  different  forms,  will  rise,  in  many 
minds.  To  some,  the  question  will  occur,  as  to  the 
evils  which  must  flow  fi'om  the  connection  of  the 
Church  and  State.  The  question  of  an  establishment, 
so  called,  need  not  be  started  now.  No  candid  person, 
with  ordinary  intelligence,  and  opportunity  to  judge, 
will  say,  that  the  connection  which  exists  in  England 
should  be  severed.  As  far  will  such  an  one  be  found 
from  thinking,  that,  as  we  are  situated,  such  a  connec- 


THE   GLOEIOUS   THENGS    OF   THE   CITY    OF   GOD.       53T 

tion  could  or  should  be  formed.  But,  to  me,  it  seems 
that  the  question  lies  above  all  this.  God  is  in  heaven, 
over  all.  Nations  are  in  His  hands,  even  as  individu- 
als. His  great  endowment,  whether  for  individual  hap- 
piness, or  national,  is  Christianity.  Its  preservation 
and  diffusion  He  has  intrusted  to  His  Church.  The 
Church  it  is,  then,  which  protects,  and  is  to  bless,  the 
nation,  as  the  individual.  The  connection  is  a  favour 
to  the  State,  not  to  herself.  The  gifts  which  she  dis- 
penses, men  must  have,  or  perish.  Their  gifts  to  her, 
she  needs  not,  at  their  hands.  Indeed,  they  have  no 
gifts  to  give  her.  What  they  have  is  from  her  Lord. 
He  gives  it.  He  preserves  it.  He  blesses  it.  If  He 
withdi'aws  His  smile,  their  gold  and  precious  stones  are 
turned  to  dust  and  slate.  If  He  turns  His  face  away, 
they  perish  in  a  moment.  What  have  men  to  speak, 
then,  of  the  patronage  of  the  Church  ?  Patronage  of  the 
Church,  wLich  is  the  body  of  Christ !  Patronage  of  the 
Chui'ch,  to  which  He  is  "  head  over  all  things ! "  Pa- 
tronage of  the  Church,  which  is  "  the  fulness  of  Him, 
who  filleth  all  in  all !  "  When  once  the  Ark  of  God 
was  on  its  way  to  Zion,  it  rested  in  the  house  of  Obed 
Edom  for  a  time.  "  And  the  Lord  blessed  the  house 
of  Obed  Edom,  and  all  that  pertained  unto  him,  be- 
cause of  the  Ark  of  God."*  So  it  has  been  with 
England.  Her  power,  her  wealth,  her  glory,  is  but  the 
blessing  which  God  sends  upon  her,  as  the  home  and 
shelter  of  His  Church.f     When  he  was  minded  to  visit 

*  2  Samuel  vi.  12. 

f  This  view  of  the  causes,  which  chiefly  operate  in  making  England  what  it  is, 


538       THE   GLORIOUS    THLNGS    OF   THE   CITY    OF   GOD. 

her  witli  His  sore  judgments,  He  suffered  tlie  bright- 
ness of  her  face,  the  reflection,  through  her  Heavenly 
head,  of  His  own  reconciled  countenance,  to  be,  for  a 

was  presented  more  fully  by  the  author,  in  his  sermon  at  the  Consecration,  at 
Leeds.  The  following  editorial  paragraph,  from  a  number  of  the  "  John  Bull," 
received  by  the  last  steamer,  sustains  and  carries  out  the  thought.  The  author 
has  no  fear  of  being  thought,  by  any  whose  opinion  he  respects,  the  less  an  Amer- 
ican, because  he  owns  and  reverences  what  is  good  in  England.  Is  it  not  a  just 
pride,  which  children  have,  in  parentage,  illustrious  for  virtue  ?  Are  not  we  the 
sons  of  Englishmen  ?  Is  not  the  English  character  our  inheritance  ?  Are  not 
their  triumphs  our  trophies  ?  Shame  on  this  narrow  jealousy  !  Shame  on  the  son, 
that,  to  prove  his  manhood,  spurns  his  mother !  I  still  assert,  what  I  said,  with 
all  sincerity,  at  Leeds  ;  and  what  was  received  with  almost  deafening  acclamation, 
that  true  Americans  have  English  hearts  !  Shame  on  us,  if  we  had  not ;  one,  as 
we  are,  in  blood,  in  language,  in  letters,  and  in  faith  !  But,  our  great  poet-painter, 
Washington  Allston,  has  said  this  better  far  than  I  can,  in  the  noblest  lyric  in  our 

language. 

"Though  ages  long  have  passed, 
Since  our  fathers  left  their  home ; 
Their  pilot  in  the  blast, 
O'er  untravelled  seas  to  roam, 
Tet  lives  the  blood  of  England  in  our  veins ! 
And  shall  we  not  proclaim 
That  blood  of  honest  fame. 
Which  no  tyranny  can  tame 
By  its  chains  ? 

"  While  the  language  free  and  bold 
Which  the  bard  of  Avon  sung, 
In  which  our  Milton  told 
How  the  vault  of  Heaven  rung, 
When  Satan,  blasted,  fell  with  all  his  host ; 
While  these  with  reverence  meet, 
Ten  thousand  echoes  greet, 
And  from  rock  to  rock  repeat, 
Eound  our  coast ! 

"While  the  manners,  while  the  arts 
That  mould  a  nation's  soul, 
Btill  cling  around  our  hearts, 
Between  let  ocean  roll, 
Our  joint  communion  breaking  with  the  sun  : 
Tet  still,  from  either  beach, 
The  voice  of  blood  shall  reach, 
More  audible  than  speech — 
We  aee  one." 

"  If  Tou  could  make  all  men  moderate,  rational,  sober,  ana  true,  no  form  of 
government  would  bear  a  moment's  comparison  with  that  of  the  United  States  of 
America.  If  you  look  to  the  abstract  merits  of  the  rival  institutions,  the  life 
peerage  of  France  is  clearly  to  be  preferred  to  the  hereditary  peerage  of  Eng- 
land.    If  you  seek  for  vigour  in  the  Executive,  which  yet  affords  to  the  subject 


THE   GLORIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE   CITY    OF    GOD.       539 

season,  veiled.  There  needs  no  word  of  mine  to  tell 
how  great  that  darkness  was.  Whenever,  then,  the 
Church,  true  to  herself,  takes  her  true  place ;  is  care- 
ful, not  for  wealth,  or  power,  or  splendour,  but  for 
the  souls  of  men ;  courts  not  the  favour  of  the  rich, 
or  great,  but  goes  about  to  seek  and  save  the  lost; 
busies  herself  in  highways  and  in  hedges,  in  bringing 
wanderers   home  to    Christ ;  *    devotes  herself,  like  a 


as  much  of  practical  freedom  as  the  subject  need  desire,  you  have  only  to  turn 
your  eyes  towards  the  dominions  of  the  illustrious  Monarch,  who  answered  for 
the  infant  prince,  at  the  Baptismal  font.  But  neither  in  America,  nor  in  France, 
nor  even  in  Prussia,  high  as  she  stands  in  our  estimation,  do  you  find  a  national 
character  at  all  resembling  that  of  England,  in  which  a  devoted  loyalty  to  the 
Sovereign  is  combined  with  a  sensitive  jealousy  of  each  man's  personal  rights ; 
and  a  deference  for  rank  and  station,  greater  perhaps  than  is  observable  else- 
where, never  for  a  moment  causes  him  who  exhibits  it  to  forget  the  respect  which 
he  owes  to  himself.  And  where,  for  energy  and  high  courage — for  a  perseverance 
which  sets  all  obstacles  at  defiance — for  a  patriotism,  which,  without  display,  is 
yet  continually  operative  in  the  breasts  of  all  classes — and  above  all,  for  a  fervent 
and  unostentatious  piety,  such  as  sustains  men  in  suff"ering,  and  keeps  them  humble 
in  prosperity — where,  over  the  entire  surface  of  the  globe,  can  you  find  a  people 
that  shall  come  in  rivalry  with  our  own?  How  do  you  account  for  all  this?  What 
is  the  cause  of  it?  Does  England  owe  her  national  character  to  the  civil  institu- 
tions under  which  Englishmen  Hve?  Nothing  of  the  sort.  These  institutions  are 
the  produce  of  the  national  character,  not  the  cause  of  it ;  for  national  character 
is  but  an  extension  of  a  great  number  of  individual  characters  ;  and  these,  as  we 
need  not  say,  are  formed  not  in  public,  but  at  home.  What  then  has  rendered 
Englishmen  the  truehearted,  brave,  industrious,  and  enduring  race  that  we  find 
them  ?  We  answer,  the  power  of  religion  as  it  has  been  communicated  to  them 
by  their  Church;  which  causes  her  infiuence  to  be  felt  alike  in  the  palace  and 
the  cottage,  of  which  the  ministers  pass  as  friends  and  advisers  from  the  highest 
to  the  lowest  circles,  of  which  the  tuition  is  continually  operative,  wherever  there 
is  a  place  of  public  worship,  wherever  there  is  a  Prayer  Beok,  wherever  there  is  a 
Bible.  The  Church,  and  the  Church  alone,  trains  Englishmen  beside  their  own 
firesides;  and  Englishmen  so  trained,  build  up,  they  do  not  know  how,  the  great 
institutions  under  which  they  live.  The  Church  may,  therefore,  be  accounted  the 
soul  of  our  constitution — the  civil  institutions  which  appertain  to  it,  the  body. 
Let  the  one  be  taken  away  and  the  other  will  not  survive  it  one  hour :  indeed, 
experience  has  already  proved  that  so  effectually,  that  we  need  not  go  into  any 
argument  in  order  to  demonstrate  a  truth,  which  the  most  prejudiced  will  scarcely 
refuse  to  accept." — John  Bull,  of  January  29. 

*  Let  me  illustrate  this,  by  what  I  saw  at  Leeds.     We  reached  there  early  in 


540       THE    GLORIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE   CITY    OF   GOD. 

true  nursing  motlier,  to  bring  up  laer  Saviour's  lit- 
tle children ;  rejoices  most  wlien  she  can  wash  the  feet 
of  saints,  and  bind  the  wounds  that  ache  in  broken 
hearts,  and  bring  back  sinners  to  repentance,  that  they 
may  save  themselves,  through  faith  in  Christ ;  and, 
in  this  gracious  work,  is  shod  with  sandals,  that  have 
wings  of  love,  to  compass  all  the  world:  whenever 
this  is  so,  the  State  becomes  dependent  on  the  Church, 
leans  on  her,  and  looks  up  to  her.  The  Church  be- 
comes omnipotent,  through  the  omnipotence  of  God. 

the  afternoon.  In  the  shortest  possible  time,  the  excellent  Vicar  was  with  us,  to 
make  us  at  home,  at  the  Vicarage.  Would  we  like  to  go  with  him,  after  dinner, 
to  one  of  his  district  classes  ? — Certainly ;  we  came  to  see  the  working  of  the 
Church.  Through  narrow,  crooked,  crowded  streets,  after  no  short  walk,  we 
reached  an  old  and  shabby  building,  and  ascended  by  a  rickety  staircase,  to  a 
dirty  and  half-lighted  school-room.  There  were  assembled  there  some  fifty  or 
sixty  poor  men  and  women.  One  of  the  chants,  with  a  small  organ,  began  the 
worship;  which  was  followed  by  the  Vicar,  with  some  portions  of  the  Liturgy. 
Then  he  read  a  chapter  of  the  Gospel  according  to  St.  John  ;  and  made  a  plain, 
familiar,  practical  exposition  of  it.  Then,  he  told  them  that  his  Curate,  who  was 
their  Minister,  had  been  ordained  Priest ;  and  complimented  them  on  their  in- 
crease of  Christian  privilege,  by  this.  Then,  he  told  them  that  another  of  the 
Clergy,  who  laboured  much  among  them,  and  had  been  married  the  last  year,  was' 
a  father;  at  which  he  knew  they  would  rejoice.  Then  he  took  a  little  book  from 
his  pocket,  and  called  their  names  ;  and  they  came,  one  by  one,  and  laid  a  penny, 
or  two-pence,  on  a  table,  by  him,  their  weekly  contribution  to  the  District  Library 
of  Religious  Knowledge.  And  then,  he  wished  me  to  dismiss  them  with  the  bless- 
ing. To  me,  there  was  in  all  this,  a  simplicity,  a  heartiness,  a.  pastoralness,  inimi- 
table, in  its  truth  to  nature,  and  in  its  power  with  hearts.  And  when  I  considered, 
that  this  was  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  the  presbyters  of  England,  Yicar  of  one 
of  the  largest  parishes,  (with  36  assistants,  and  130,000  souls,)  a  prebendary  of 
Lincoln,  and  Chaplain  in  ordinary  to  the  Queen ;  that  this  was  his  daily,  almost 
hourly  work ;  that  hundreds  and  thousands  were  doing  the  same  :  I  confess,  I  felt, 
that,  with  the  blessing,  which  such  a  Clergy  would  bring  on  her,  from  the  Lord, 
the  Church  of  England  was  impregnable. — Another  day  I  went  with  him  to  an- 
other school-house.  It  was  admission-day  to  a  free-school.  They  were  children 
of  the  operatives.  As  I  marked  the  patient  carefulness  with  which  he  looked  into 
each  particular  case,  with  a  kind  word  for  every  child  and  its  poor  mother,  I  felt 
that  Christianity  did  take  the  bitterness  from  poverty ;  and  understood  how  it  was, 
that  so  many  gallant  soldiers,  enterprising  mariners,  and  faithful  pastors,  had 
started  from  the  free  schools  of.  England. 


THE    GLORIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF    GOD.       541 

She  is  enquired  of,  not  as  established,  or  not  estab- 
lished ;  but,  as  a  compassionate  Church.  She  is  cared 
for,  not  as  sitting  high  above  the  princes  of  the  earth, — 
where  her  seat  is,  since  she  is  one  with  Christ, — but,  as 
a  Church  that  goes  about  to  do  men  good :  a  Church  of 
Catholic  truth,  not  only,  but  of  Catholic  love.  Such  is 
the  present  posture  of  the  Church  of  England.  Such, 
they  will  confess  it  to  be,  who  have  so  deeply  felt  the 
power  of  her  rebuke.  Such,  they  will  find  it,  whoever 
they  may  be,  who,  while  she  shall  be  faithful,  to  her- 
self, and  to  her  Master,  seek  to  hinder  or  divert  her 
course.  Is  it  not  written,  "  every  weapon  formed 
against  thee,  shall  perish  ? "  Was  not  apostate  Julian 
forced  to  say,  "  thou  hast  conquered,  O  Galilean ! " 

ii.  Some,  again,  will  doubt,  whether  the  silence, 
which  the  State  imposes  on  the  Church,  be  not  a  hin- 
drance to  effectual  usefulness ;  since,  it  is  long  since  she 
has  had  a  council,  in  which  her  voice  was  freely  heard. 
To  this  I  reply,  that,  if  the  powers  of  the  Convocation 
have  not,  by  this  time,  been  so  far  extended  as  to  re- 
store her  functions,  as  a  deliberative  body ;  they  soon 
must  be,  as  the  demand  of  the  whole  nation,  at  the 
Sovereign's  hand.  It  may  be  stated,  confidently,  that 
the  Church  of  England  has,  within  herself,  whenever 
she  is  bold  in  Christ  to  use  them,  all  the  means  of  self- 
reformation,  up  to  the  point  of  highest  and  most  per- 
fect adaptation  to  the  ends  for  which  she  is.  It  should 
be  considered  farther,  that  in  her  case,  there  is  greatly 
less  need  of  frequent  councils,  than  in  ours.  We  were 
but  lately  an  infant  Church ;  and  have  had  every  thing, 


542   THE  GLOEIOUS  THINGS  OF  THE  CITY  OF  GOD. 

that  God  does  not  determine  for  His  Churcli,  to  settle 
for  ourselves.  She  is  a  long  and  well  compacted  body. 
She  needs  a  voice ;  but  does  not  need  its  frequent  use. 
The  time  will  come  when  our  triennial  General  Conven- 
tion had  better  be  septennial.  When  men  are  met, 
they  must  do  something.  Often,  for  the  want  of  good 
to  occupy  them,  they  do  harm. 

iii.  But  some  will  surely  think,  that  Oxford  has 
within  it  elements,  that  must  divide  and  rend  the 
Church ;  and  ask,  in  honest  earnestness,  is  there  not  se- 
rious danger,  from  that  controversy?  Yes:  just  as 
much  as  fi^om  the  breeze,  that  stirs  the  stagnant  waters 
of  the  pool ;  or  shakes,  before  their  time,  the  dead 
leaves  from  the  trees  upon  the  hill.  I  mean  to  say, 
without  a  word  that  can  give  just  offence  to  any  man, 
that,  whatever  is  personal,  and  local,  and  occasional,  in 
this  question,  (far  less  agitating  in  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, than  you  suppose,  *)  is  rapidly  passing  away.  A 
year,  or  two,  or  three,  will  place  it  with  the  things  that 
were,  so  far  as  its  peculiarities  are  concerned.  But,  the 
appeal  made,  when  wicked  hands  were  laid  upon  the 
Church,  to  the  princij^les  of  Churchmen ;  the  assertion 
of  the  Church's  character  and  rights,  as  independent  of, 
and  far  above,  the  State ;  f  the  summons  to  the  ancient 

*  This  is  said,  with  a  full  knowledge  of  all  that  has  occurred  in  England,  up 
to  the  middle  of  February ;  the  struggle  for  the  Poetry  Professorship  at  Oxford 
included. 

■j-  "When  the  heaving  of  the  earthquake  began  to  be  felt ;  when  society  ap- 
peared on  the  eve  of  returning  to  its  elements ;  when  our  Bishops  were  exhorted 
in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  by  the  head  of  the  King's  government,  to  set  their 
house  in  order  ;  and  the  overthrow  of  the  establishment  was  openly  threatened; 
then  began  the  more  reflecting  of  the  Clergy  to  think,  and  to  look  around  for 
some  bond  of  union,  which  should  still  hold  the  Church  together,  after  she  might 


THE   GLOEIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE    CIl'Y    OF   GOD.       543 

faitli,  tlie  ancient  discipline,  the  ancient  worsliip ;  the 
impulse  given,  in  every  quarter  of  the  Church,  to  an- 
cient piety,  and  ancient  holiness,  and  ancient  charity, — 
these  will  remain,  as  blessings  to  mankind,  when  every 
name  that  has  been  mixed  up  in  this  strife  of  tongues 
shall  be  forgotten. 

iv.  But,  finally,  is  there  not  danger  fi^om  the  arts  of 
Rome  ?  Not  since  the  price  of  the  O'Connell  interest 
has  been  found  so  far  above  its  worth.  The  power  of 
Rome,  in  England,  is  chiefly  political.  Let  the  calami- 
ties of  Ireland,  which  are  chiefly  owing  to  her  priests, 
be  met  in  some  efiicient  way — as  plans  for  meeting 
them  are  now  in  progress — and  the  name  of  Popery 
wilj  cease  to  give  alarm.  As  it  is,  Rome  makes  no 
progress,  that  involves  the  slightest  apprehension  for 
the  integrity  of  Gospel  truth.  There,  as  here,  wealth  is 
brought  in,  from  Continental  Europe,  for  the  erection  of 
Churches  and  the  endowment  of  Monasteries.  There, 
as  here,  the  Roman  Clergy  and  Laity  possess  a  zeal,  and 
self-denial,  and  perseverance,  which  would  become  a 
better  cause.  Still,  Rome  makes  no  progress  that  in- 
volves the  slightest  apprehension  for  the  integrity  of 
Gospel  truth.  The  lists  of  Popish  Chapels,  and  the 
maps  which  ever  and  anon  come  over  to  us,  dotted 
and  a-blaze  with  scarlet  crosses,  are  to  be  taken  with 

have  ceased  to  be  the  establishment.  As  was  to  be  expected,  the  persons  of  whom 
we  are  speaking,  turned  to  the  works  of  the  Fathers:  they  found  from  them,  that 
long  before  the  reign  of  Constantine,  the  Church  had  been,  in  essentials,  precisely 
what  she  is  at  this  day ;  and  they  set  themselves  to  the  laudable  task  of  instruct- 
ing the  minds  of  others,  in  England,  as  well  as  elsewhere,  that  the  Church,  even 
if  cast  aside  by  the  state,  would  retain  all  the  essential  authority  which  now  be- 
longs to  her,  and  confer  upon  her  faithful  sons  all  the  privileges  which  they  now 
enjoy." — Jolin  Bull. 


544      THE    GLOEIOUS    THINGS    OF   THE   CITY    OF    GOD. 

the  largest  measure  of  allowance;  and  often  indi- 
cate tlie  seats  of  an  occasional  service,  desio;ned,  not 
seldom,  for  a  jDrospective  congregation.  Indeed,  as  I 
was  well  assured,  tlie  whole  number  of  Romish  Chapels 
in  England  is  scarcely  greater  than  the  number  of 
Churches  which  have  been  erected,  since  the  revival  of 
Church  building.  Be  this  as  it  may  be,  the  spirit  that 
rose  up  at  the  clear  trumpet  call  of  Cranmer,  Ridley, 
Latimer,  breathes  in  the  Church  of  England  still ;  and, 
at  whatever  cost,  will  stand  between  the  truth  and 
Rome.  But,  is  denunciation  Christian  ?  Is  it  for  us  to 
judge  His  servants  ?  Is  it  not  better  that  prayers 
should  be  employed,  if,  peradventure,  we  may  gain  our 
brother?  Were  not  his  comins;  to  our  truth  better 
than  our  victory  over  his  error  ?  Is  not  the  best  strife 
that  which  most  provokes  to  works  of  charity  ?  Is  not 
the  best  opposition  to  false  doctrine,  the  diligent  dis- 
semination of  the  true  ?  Is  there  any  logic  that  com- 
pares with  holiness  ?  Or  any  rhetoric,  that  c.^n  per- 
suade like  love  ? 

"  Speak  gently  of  our  sister's  fall ; 

Who  knows  but  gentle  love 

May  win  her,  at  our  patient  call, 

The  surer  way  to  prove  ?  "  * 

And  now,  some  one,  perhaps,  will  say,  speaking  be- 
fore he  thinks :  "  your  impressions  of  the  Church  of 
England  breathe  but  discouragement  for  us!  We 
cannot  run  with  her.  We  can  but  look,  and  wonder, 
at  the  triumphs  of  her  glorious  march,  impossible  to 

*  Keble,  Christian  Year. 


THE   GLOEIOUS   THDTGS    OF   THE   CITY   OF   GOD.       545 

US ! "  Let  no  man  tliink  sucli  tliouglits.  They  are 
untrue.  Tliey  are  unworthy  of  the  cause.  They  should 
not  enter  for  one  moment  into  any  Churchman's  heart. 
What !  Is  the  Church  of  man  ?  Are  its  resources  dug 
up  from  the  soil  ?  Does  it  depend  on  agency  or  influ- 
ence of  earth  ?  What !  Is  the  Lord's  arm  shortened  ? 
Is  He  who  is  head  of  the  Church,  no  longer  "  head 
over  all  things  ?  "  Is  it  this  or  that  portion,  and  not 
the  whole  Chm*ch,  that  is  called  in  Holy  Scripture, 
"  the  fulness  of  Him  that  filleth  all  in  all  ? "  No ;  there 
is  nothing  in  our  case  discouraging.  No ;  there  is 
nothing  in  our  case  that  does  not  call  for  gratitude,  and 
tempt  to  triumph.  Not  an  intelligent  Churchman  in 
England,  that  does  not  feel  the  freedom  of  our  posture 
from  restraints ;  the  freshness  and  the  force  of  our  ap- 
peal, to  the  conclusions  of  every  honest  mind,  that  will 
take  up  the  subject,  and  investigate  the  argument.  To 
different  portions  of  His  Church,  as  to  different  men 
in  each,  God  assigns  different  offices.  The  Church  of 
England  has  been  set  and  kept,  "  for  the  defence  and 
confii'mation  of  the  Gospel,"  through  the  vicissitudes  of 
eighteen  hundi'ed  years,  that  men  may  see  and  know 
how  true  and  full  of  grace  that  promise  is,  "  lo,  I  am 
with  you  always ;  "  that  men  may  see  and  know,  that 
those  who  will  maintain  His  truth,  shall  be  rewarded 
with  His  blessing ;  that  men  may  see  and  know,  that, 
as  with  individuals,  so  with  Chm'ches,  "  it  is  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive " — ^the  Missionary 
Church  of  the  whole  world  being  made  the  chief  in 

glory  and  in  power ;  that  men  may  see  and  know,  that 
VOL.  IV. — 35 


546   THE  GLOEIOUS  THINGS  OF  THE  CITY  OF  GOD. 

"  the  race  is  not  to  tlie  swift,  nor  tlie  battle  to  the 
strong,"  but  that  "  the  victory  is  the  Lord's,"  and  that 
He  will  give  the  conquest  to  the  fewest  of  all  people,  if 
they  be  but  faithful  to  His  Word  and  Church.     To  us, 
a  different  function  is  awarded.     Our  problem  is,  to 
prove  the  adaptedness  of  the  Church  to  whatever  form 
of  civil  government.      Our*  problem  is,  to  prove  the 
intrinsic  power  of  truth,  unaided  in  the  least  by  patron- 
age, or  favour  from  the  state.    Om*  problem  is,  to  show, 
that,  by  the  force  of  its  divine  commission,  and  the 
grace  which  follows  it,  the  ordinance  of  God  will  still 
advance,  in  poverty,  and  prejudice,  and  persecution ; 
and  make  its  way,  among  the  inventions  of  men,  even 
as  the  rod  of  Aaron,  among  the  rods  of  the  magicians. 
In  a  word,  our  problem  is,  to  revive,  in  the  nineteenth 
century,  the  simple  Church  of  the  first ;  and  to  show 
that  then,  as  now,  the  triumph  is  "  not  by  might,  not 
by  power,  but  by  My  spirit,  saith  the  Lord."     Such  is 
the  construction  which  the   English   Churchmen   put 
upon  our  case.      Thus  construed,  they  rejoice  in  our 
prosperity.     They  appeal  to  our  progress,  as  the  best 
argument  to  enforce  their  o^vn.     They  rejoice  greatly 
"  for  the  consolation,"   and  glorify  God  in  us.     Their 
prayers  ascend  daily,  fi'om  fervent  hearts,  that  peace 
and  prosperity  may  ever  be  with  us,  and  abound  :  and 
it  is  their  hearts'  desire,  that — striving  with  them,  in 
that  only  emulation  which   becometh  Christians,  the 
strife  of  love — we,  on  our  "Westward  track,  may  hasten 
on  to  meet  them,  in  their  progress  Eastward ;  so  com- 
passing the  world  between  us,  and  setting  up,  in  every 


THE    GLOEIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE   CITY    OF    GOD.       54T 

land,  the  name  and  worship  of  our  gracious  Lord. 
"  Even  so,  come,  Lord  Jesus  ;  come  quickly  !  " 

That  we  may  best  co-operate  in  this  most  glorious 
work,  and  realize  these  lofty  aspirations,  I  need  not 
say,  that  we  must  emulate  the  zeal,  the  piety,  the 
charity,  which  makes  the  Church  of  England  now,  the 
light  and  glory  of  the  world.*  These  were  the  arms  by 
which  the  cause  of  Christ  first  triumphed,  in  the  hands 
of  Peter,  John,  and  Paul.  These  are  the  only  weapons 
which  the  Saviour  authorizes,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  will 
bless.  Jesus,  "  lifted  up  from  the  earth,"  must  still 
"  draw  all  men  "  to  Himself.  The  bleeding  Cross  is  still 
the  banner,  in  whose  sign  we  overcome.  The  love  of 
Christ  constraining  us,  must  still  be  our  motive,  as  it 
was  St.  Paul's. 

And  now,  dear  brethren,  to  conclude  as  I  began. 
Of  all  the  glorious  things  that  can  be  spoken  of  the 
Church,  this  is  the  greatest,  that  she  is  "  glorious  in 
holiness ; "  and  He  who  gave  Himself  for  it,  gave 
Himself  expressly,  that  she  should  be  "  holy,  and  with- 
out blemish.'"  But,  that  the  Church  be  holy,  the 
members  of  the  Church  must  first  be  holy.  Now 
holiness  is  personal.  It  is  the  work  of  grace  in  every 
individual  heart.     It  is  the  transformation  of  the  man, 

*  I  have  not  spoken  of  the  chiefest  of  the  material  glories  of  England,  hek 
Cathedrals  ;  because  I  should  have  run  beyond  my  limits,  had  I  entered  on  that 
theme.  I  can  only  say,  at  present,  high  as  my  expectations  were,  they  were  by 
far  inferior  to  the  truth.  Surely,  they  are  the  noblest  of  the  creations  of  men.  We 
were  at  the  service  in  very  nearly  all  of  them.  Only  in  two,  was  there  the  slight- 
est impropriety.  Solemnity  and  devotion  were  never  made  so  powerful  as  in  the 
Cathedral  service.  In  one,  in  which  I  preached,  that  of  Ripon,  which  is  also  a 
parish  Church,  it  is  simplified  and  adapted  to  congregational  use,  in  a  way  which 
might  be  introduced  in  America.     I  trust  it  may  be. 


548       THE   GLOEIOUS   THINGS    OF   THE    CITY    OF   GOD. 

by  the  renewing  of  liis  mind.  It  is  liis  new  creation, 
by  tlie  Spirit  of  God,  in  rigliteousness  and  true  lioliness, 
according  to  His  image,  in  whose  likeness  we  were  first 
created.  In  vain  our  name  of  Christians,  then,  unless 
we  be  like  Christ.  In  vain  we  cry,  "  the  temple  of  the 
Lord,  the  temple  of  the  Lord,  the  temple  of  the  Lord 
are  these,"  unless  His  Spirit  dwell  with  us,  and  reign  in 
us.  It  is  indeed  a  glorious  thing  to  be  a  member  of 
that  Church  of  which  such  "  glorious  things  are  spoken." 
But  to  be  such  is  to  be  responsible  for  being  "  holy, 
even  as  He  is  holy."  "  Why  call  ye  me  Lord,  Lord,  and 
do  not  the  things  which  I  say  ?  "  "  Follow  after  holi- 
ness," it  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter ;  may  we 
all  have  grace  to  lay  it  well  to  heart,  "  follow  after  holi- 
ness, without  which  no  man  shaU  see  the  Lord." 


^SEKMON  lY. 

THE  BAG,  WITH  HOLES. 

Haggai  I.  5-8. — Now,  therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts  ;  Consider  your 
ways.  Ye  have  sown  much,  and  bring  in  httle  ;  ye  eat,  but  ye  have  not  enough ; 
ye  drink,  but  ye  are  not  filled  with  drink  ;  ye  clothe  you,  but  there  is  none  warm ; 
and  he  that  earneth  wages  earneth  wages  to  put  it  into  a  bag,  with  holes.  Thus 
saith  the  Lord  of  hosts  ;  Consider  your  ways.  Go  up  to  the  mountain,  and  bring 
wood,  and  build  the  house  ;  and  I  will  take  pleasure  in  it,  and  I  will  be  glorified, 
saith  the  Lord.  Ye  looked  for  much,  and  lo,  it  came  to  little ;  and  when  ye 
brought  it  home,  I  did  blow  upon  it.  Why  ?  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts.  Because 
of  Mine  house,  that  is  waste  ;  and  ye  run,  every  man,  unto  his  own  house. 

How  well  these  words  describe  the  present  state  of 
thmgs,  with  us !  Look  back  to  mid-siinimer.  Was 
ever  land  so  full  of  wealth  ;  and  of  what  makes  wealth, 
and  stands  for  it  ?  What  plenteous  crops !  What 
busy  mills  !  What  crowds  of  ships !  Agriculture, 
never  so  profitable.  Manufactures,  never  so  active. 
Commerce,  never  so  extensive.  Peace  with  the  w^orld. 
Prosperity,  at  home.  What  enterprise,  that  could  not 
safely  be  encountered  !  What  rate  of  progress,  that 
could  not  be  easily  achieved  !  What  acme  of  prosj^er- 
ity,  that  was  not  certainly  attainable !  It  really  seemed, 
that  gold  was  God.     That  the  w^arning,  as  to  "  doubt- 

*  In  St.  Mary's,  Burlington,  on  Advent  Sunday,  A.  D.  185Y  ;  during  the  height 
of  the  financial  crisis  of  that  year. 


550  THE   BAG,  WITH   HOLES. 

fill  riches,"  had  gone  entirely  out  of  use.  That  there 
were,  no  longer,  wings,  for  wealth ;  nor  any  moth,  or 
rust,  that  could  lay  hold  on  earthly  treasui'es.  Before 
mid-autumn  came,  how  fearful  was  the  change !  The 
whole  land,  trembling  with  dismay.  Men's  hearts,  fail- 
ing them,  for  fear.  Confidence,  gone.  Enterprise, 
checked.  Manufactures,  stopped.  Commerce,  para- 
lyzed. Agriculture,  unable  to  pay  the  freightage  of  its 
products,  to  the  market.  The  most  established  institu- 
tions, shaken  to  their  foundations.  The  oldest,  and 
most  respected,  commercial  houses,  driven,  into  bank- 
ruptcy. And  names,  that  had  stood  up,  for  a  whole 
generation,  as  light-houses,  for  integrity,  and  honour, 
tempted  to  dishonesty.  And,  even,  now,  from  Europe, 
comes — above  the  roar  of  ocean,  above  the  thunder  of 
the  heavens,  above  the  din  of  Indian  battle-fields — the 
echo  of  our  crash :  stunning  our  ears,  while  it  appals  our 
hearts.  "Was  ever  such  transition,  from  the  highest 
height  of  prosperity,  to  the  deepest  depth  of  adversity  ? 
"Was  ever  lesson  so  impressive,  that  gold  is  only  dust ; 
that  wisdom  is  only  foolishness ;  that  strongest  strength 
is  only  weakest  weakness  ?  "Where  was  the  arm,  that 
could  arrest  the  panic?  "Where  was  the  mind,  that 
could  explain  it,  or  account  for  it  ?  "What  was  there, 
for  whole  America,  Avhat,  for  ancestral  England,  but,  to 
bow,  like  willows,  to  the  storm ;  and  save  themselves, 
by  yielding  ?  How  keen,  in  such  a  case,  the  sarcasm, 
of  the  Prophet !  "  Ye  have  sown  much  ;  and,  bring  in 
little."  The  golden  harvests  of  the  "West,  are  still  in 
barns ;  for  want  of  money  to  transport  them.     "  Ye  eat, 


THE   BAG,  WITH   HOLES.  551 

but  ye  have  not  enougli ;  ye  drink,  but  ye  are  not  filled 
with  drink ;  ye  clothe  you,  but  there  is  none  warm." 
Men,  who  have  rioted  in  plenty,  find  themselves  re- 
duced to  want.  Luxury  and  licentiousness  give  way, 
to  scarcity  and  care.  The  vestments,  which  cost  thou- 
sands, fail  to  warm  their  trembling  wearers.  "  And  he, 
that  earneth  wages  " — ^he  that  has  laid  up  money ;  the 
product  of  his  toil,  or  triumph  of  his  skill — "  earneth 
wages,  to  put  into  a  bag,  with  holes."  As  some  in- 
dustrious countrywoman,  who  has  put  all  her  savings, 
into  an  old  stocking,  and  laid  it  safely  by,  behind  the 
chimney ;  finds,  that  the  mice  have  gnawed  it  into 
holes :  and  all  her  hoarded  store  has  fallen,  beyond  her 
reach.  At  other  times,  these  troubles  have  befallen 
some.  Now,  they  reach  all.  At  other  times,  the  doubt- 
ful fell ;  the  weak  were  shaken.  Now,  the  strongest 
were  the  first,  to  fall ;  and  the  least  questionable  have 
had  to  own  their  weakness.  There  has  been  no  such 
searching  of  men's  hearts,  since  we  became  a  nation : 
and,  never,  with  so  little  reason ;  or,  in  a  way,  to  pass, 
so  fearfully,  all  human  comprehension.  If  statistics  are 
reliable,  for  the  products  of  the  land ;  if  freedom  from 
foreign  entanglements,  were  safety ;  if  enterprise,  ability 
and  industry  were  strength ;  we  should  now  be  filled 
with  riches  :  and  their  increase,  passing  all  experience. 
Without  flood,  or  fire,  or  famine ;  no  war,  no  j^estilence : 
we  are  a  crippled  nation.  The  richest  cannot  reach 
their  wealth.  The  wisest  know  not  where  to  turn.  The 
most  skilful  find  no  occupation.  The  most  industrious 
cannot  earn  their  bread.     Is  there  a  theory,  that  can 


552  THE   BAG,  WITH   HOLES. 


explain  it  ?  Is  tliere  a  chain  of  second  causes,  that  has 
produced  it  ?  Has  human  skill,  or  human  energy,  or 
human  enterprise,  been  at  fault  ?  "  No,"  says  the 
withering  sarcasm,  of  the  Prophet :  "  Ye  looked  for 
much ;  and,  lo,  it  came  to  little  ;  and,  when  ye  brought 
it  home,  I  did  blow  upon  it,"  saith  the  Lord.  In  the 
stronger  language,  of  the  margin  of  our  Bibles,  "  I  did 
blow  it  away."  "  Why  ?  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts.  Be- 
cause of  mine  house,  that  is  waste ;  and  ye  run,  every 
man,  unto  his  own  house." 

My  brethren,  the  lesson  of  the  text  is,  clearly,  the 
lesson  of  the  times ;  "  Consider  your  ways."  It  is  re- 
peated. "  Now,  therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts. 
Consider  your  ways,"  and,  again,  "  Thus  saith  the  Lord 
of  hosts,  Consider  your  ways."  In  the  more  expressive 
language  of  the  margin,  "  Set  your  heart,  upon  your 
ways^  Dear  brethren,  is  there  not  a  cause  ?  Can  we 
do  less  ?  Have  not  our  ways  gone  wrong  ?  Has  not 
disappointment  sprung  up,  in  every  path  ?  Have  we 
not  found,  that  riches  are  deceitful  ?  That  enterprise  is 
powerless  ?  That  wisdom  is  at  fault  ?  What  is  the  ob- 
vious lesson,  but,  to  set  our  heart,  upon  our  ways  ? 

"  Set  your  heart  upon  your  ways ! "  Consider  their 
worldUness.  We  have  become,  very  proud.  Our  pro- 
gress has  been  so  great.  Our  enterprises  have  been  so 
successful.  We  have  achieved  so  much,  in  arts.  We 
are  conscious,  of  such  power,  in  arms.  We  have  es- 
sayed to  lead  the  age.  We  have  proposed  to  sway 
the  world.  Where,  such  an  increase  of  population? 
Where,  such  freedom,  from  poverty  ?     Where,  such  an 


TUE   BAG,    WITH    HOLES.  553 

assertion  of  human  rights?  Where,  such  jjuIdHc 
wealth  ?  Where,  such  private  splendoui'  ?  Where, 
such  extent  of  railroads  ?  Where,  such  magic  of  the 
telegraph  ?  Where,  such  diffusion  of  knowledge  ? 
Where,  such  attainments  of  science?  Where,  such  en- 
joyments of  art  ?  As  if,  the  whole  nation  had  caught 
the  spirit  of  that  poor,  rich,  fool;  and  said  to  itself, 
"  Land,  thou  hast  much  goods,  laid  up,  for  many  years  : 
take  thine  ease ;  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry  !"  "  Now, 
therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts.  Set  your  heart, 
on  your  ways :  ye  have  sown  much,  and  bring  in  little ; 
ye  eat,  but  have  not  enough ;  ye  drink,  but  ye  are  not 
filled  with  drink;  ye  clothe  you,  but  there  is  none 
warm ;  and  he  that  earneth  wages,  earneth  wages  to 
23ut  it  into  a  bag,  with  holes." 

"  Set  your  heart  upon  your  ways."  Consider  your 
selfishness.  Of  worldliness,  the  first-born  child  is  self- 
ishness. Forgetfulness  of  God  is  deification  of  self. 
"  Ye  run,  every  man,  to  his  own  house."  To  add  field 
to  field.  To  call  the  lands  by  our  own  names.  To  fill 
our  houses,  with  treasure.  To  riot  in  luxury  and  ex- 
travagance. To  vie  with  every  foreign  foolishness.  To 
import  every  foreign  fashion.  To  live,  to  ourselves. 
To  forget  our  neighbour.  To  forget  our  God.  To  live, 
as  if  earth  were  the  only  place  ;  and  time  were  the  limit 
of  our  being:  these  have  been  our  ways.  We  have 
pampered  every  aj^petite.  We  have  indulged  every 
desire.  We  have  satiated  ourselves  with  every  indul- 
gence. We  have  run,  every  man,  unto  his  own  house ; 
as  if,  there,  safety  were  impregnable.     How  has  trouble 


554  THE   BAG,    WITH   HOLES. 

entered  our  doors !  How  lias  scarcity  seated  herself 
at  our  tables !  How  lias  want  sat  down  upon  our 
heartli-stones  !  And  how  does  distress  look  in  at  our 
windows  !  We  "  have  sown  much  and  bring  in  little." 
"  And  he  that  earneth  wages,  earneth  wages  to  put  it 
into  a  bag,  with  holes."  "  Ye  looked  for  much,  and,  lo, 
it  came  to  little  ;  and  when  ye  brought  it  home,  I  did 
blow  upon  it." 

"  Set  your  heart  upon  your  ways."  Consider  your 
forgetfulness  of  God.  It  must  ine^dtably  be  so.  "  Ye 
cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon."  A  worldly  nation,  a 
selfish  nation,  cannot  be  a  godly  nation.  And,  to  for- 
get God  is  to  lose  His  favour,  and  defy  His  wrath. 
Have  w^e  not  found  it  so  ?  Where  are  the  commercial 
speculations,  on  which,  last  year,  men's  hearts  were  ? 
God  hath  blown  upon  them.  Where  are  the  public 
improvements,  that  ^^romised  to  make  a  populous  high- 
way, from  the  Atlantic,  to  the  Pacific?  God  hath 
blown  upon  them.  Where  is  the  girdle,  that  was  to 
annihilate  the  sea ;  and  enable  the  ear  of  Wall  street  to 
hear  whispers,  from  the  Bank  of  England  ?  God  hath 
blown  upon  it.  Where  are  the  splendid  mansions? 
Where  are  the  hoards  of  gold  ?  Where  are  the  gallant 
equipages  ?  Where  are  the  groaning  boards  ?  Where 
is  the  wealth,  that  defied  calculation ;  and  the  indul- 
gence, that  exhausted  the  world?  God  hath  blown 
uj^on  it.  God  hath  blown  it  away.  He  will  not  be 
forgotten  by  His  creatures.  If  they  will  not  remember 
Him,  in  the  riches  of  His  love,  they  sliall^  in  the  terrors 
of  His  wrath. 


THE   BAG,    WITH   HOLES.  555 

"  Set  your  heart  upon  your  ways."  Consider  your 
disregard  of  His  name.  See,  with  what  piteous  cries, 
for  aid,  the  Missionary  organs  of  the  Church  have  come 
before  us,  now.  See,  how  the  plea,  from  Africa,  rises 
unheard.  See,  how  the  dwellers,  on  our  western  hills, 
and  on  our  western  prairies,  call  for  help,  in  vain.  See, 
how  a  year  of  utmost  plenty  has  allowed  a  bankrupt 
Church.  See  how,  in  our  Diocesan  relations,  the  heart 
has  chilled,  and  the  hand  drawn  back.  Consider — as 
you  know,  and  God — how  your  own  alms  have  fallen 
off.  Kecall  to  mind,  how  often  you  have  been  to 
Church,  when  you  could  attend  to  business,  or  might 
pursue  your  pleasures.  Recall  to  mind,  how  often  you 
have  turned  away  from  the  Table  of  the  Lord.  Do  you 
ask,  why  ye  have  sown  much,  and  bring  in  little  ?  Do 
you  ask,  why  you  have  earned  wages,  to  put  them  into 
a  bag,  with  holes  ?  Do  you  ask,  why  you  looked  for 
much,  and  it  came  to  little  ?  "  Why  ?  saith  the  Lord  of 
hosts.  Because  of  Mine  house,  that  is  waste  :  and  ye 
run,  every  man,  to  his  own  house." 

"  Now,  therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  Set 
your  heart,  upon  your  ways  ! "  Beturn  to  God.  Break 
down  the  idols,  which  ye  have  set  up.  Reform  your 
worldliness.  Subdue  your  selfishness.  Live,  as  if 
there  were  a  God.  Live,  as  if  you  had  a  soul.  Live^ 
as  if  it  must  endure,  forever ;  and  might  endure,  in  ev- 
erlasting misery. 

"  Now,  therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts.  Set 
your  heart  upon  your  ways  !  "  Rebuild  the  house  of 
God.     We  are  all,  who  are  baptized,  "  builders,  togeth- 


556  THE   BAG,   WITH    HOLES. 

er,  witli  God."  We  liave  succeeded,  to  the  trust  of  Pe- 
ter, and  James,  and  John.  You  have  succeeded  to  the 
trust  of  Grains,  and  Onesij^horus,  and  Aquila ;  of  Pris- 
cilla,  and  Phoebe,  and  Lydia.  Fulfil  it,  as  they  fulfilled 
it.  Let  it  be  your  cheerful  joy,  that  the  Church  is  in 
your  house.  And,  prove,  that  it  is  so,  by  earnest  ef- 
forts, liberal  alms,  and  fervent  prayers,  that  it  may, 
also,  be  in  every  house.  To-day,  do  what  you  can,  as 
God  has  blessed  you,  for  the  Home  Missions  of  this 
Church.* 

"  Now,  therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord  of  hosts,  Set 
your  heart  upon  your  ways."  Give  glory,  to  His 
name  !  "  Go  uj),  to  the  mountain,  and  bring  wood,  and 
build  the  house  ;  and  I  will  take  pleasure  in  it ;  and  I 
will  be  glorified,  saith  the  Lord."  Glorify  God  in  your 
spirits ;  by  self  devotion  to  His  cause,  and  self  sacrifice 
before  His  cross.  Glorify  God,  in  your  bodies ;  by  sub- 
jecting them  to  His  law,  in  holiness,  and  purity,  and 
charity.  Glorify  God,  in  His  house ;  by  your  constant 
attendance,  your  cheerful  service,  your  earnest  attention 
to  its  lessons,  your  devout  participation  in  its  sacra- 
ments, your  willing  contributions  to  its  charities.  Oh, 
for  the  patriot  spirit  of  Nehemiah,  whose  sorrow  of 
heart,  for  the  waste  places  of  Jerusalem,  moved,  even, 
the  heathen  Artaxerxes,  to  sympathy  and  succour. 
"  Let  the  king  live,  for  ever !  Why  should  not  my 
countenance  be  sad,  when  the  city,  the  place  of  my  fa- 
thers' sepulchres,  lieth  waste ;  and  the  gates  thereof  are 

*  The  alms,  at  the  Offertory,  were  for  tlie  use  of  the  Domestic  Committee  of 
the  Board  of  Missions. 


THE    BAG,   WITH   HOLES.  55*7 

consumed  with  fire  ! "  Oli,  for  tlie  pious  spiiit  of 
Lydia;  who,  resorting  to  a  place,  where  prayer  was 
wont  to  be  made,  had  her  heart  opened,  to  attend  to 
the  preaching  of  Paul ;  and  was  baptized,  with  all  her 
family ;  and  made  her  house,  the  home  of  the  Philip- 
pian  Church  !  Oh,  for  the  loving  spirit,  of  the  Mace- 
donian Churches,  "  whose  deep  poverty,  in  a  great  trial 
of  affliction,  abounded,  unto  the  riches  of  their  liberali- 
ty ;  "  "  for,  even,  beyond  their  power,  they  were  willing, 
of  themselves ! " 

Beloved  brethren,  "  set  your  heart  upon  your 
ways  !  "  It  is  the  lesson  of  the  text,  not  only,  and  the 
times ;  but,  of  that  holy  season,  on  which,  the  Church 
now  enters.  Surely  the  duty  of  all  duties,  for  the  Ad- 
vent Season,  is  the  consideration  of  our  ways.  Our 
sinful  ways,  which  brought  the  Lord  of  glory,  down, 
from  heaven.  Our  sinful  ways,  on  which,  the  fire  of 
His  fierce  anger  is  to  burst,  when  He  shall  come  to 
judge  the  Avorld. 

"  Awake,  again  the  Gospel  trump  is  blown : 
From  year  to  year,  it  swells,  with  louder  tone ; 

From  year  to  year,  the  signs  of  wrath 

Are  gathering,  round  the  Judge's  path  : 
Strange  words  fulfilled,  and  mighty  works  achieved ; 
And  truth,  in  all  the  earth,  both  hated  and  believed.   *  *  *  * 

But  what  are  heaven's  alarms,  to  hearts,  that  cower, 
In  wilful  slumber,  deepening  every  hour ; 

That  draw  the  curtains  closer  round, 

The  nearer  swells  the  trumpet's  sound  ? 
Lord,  ere  our  trembling  lamps  sink  down  and  die. 
Touch  us,  with  chastening  hand ;  and  make  us  feel  Thee,  nigh." 


558  THE   BAG,   WITH   HOLES. 

Beloved  brethren,  tlie  coming  of  tlie  Lord  is  di'aw- 
ing  nigli.  Even,  now,  tlie  Judge  is  at  tlie  door.  What, 
if  He  find  our  loins  not  girded  ?  What,  if  He  find  our 
lamp,  not  burning  ?  What,  if  He  say,  "  Depart  from 
Me ;  I  know  you  not  ?  "  That  it  may  not  be  so,  the 
merciful  goodness  of  God  spares  us,  to  another  Advent. 
Let  us  make  it,  w^hat  the  Church  designs  it  for,  a  season 
of  earnest  preparation,  for  the  judgment.  Let  us  be  in- 
stant, in  prayer.  Let  the  family  altar  be  set  up,  on 
every  hearth.  Let  us  be  constant,  in  the  daily  service 
of  the  Church.  Let  us  be  frequent,  at  that  holy  sacra- 
ment ;  through  which,  to  penitent  and  faithful  hearts, 
the  grace  of  their  salvation  cometh.  Let  us  be  more 
holy,  in  our  lives ;  more  charitable,  with  our  tongues ; 
more  generous,  with  our  hands.  In  a  word,  let  us  be 
more,  as  servants,  who  await  the  coming  of  their  Lord ; 
not  knowing,  when  He  cometh.  Saviour  and  Judge — 
most  gracious  Saviour  and  most  glorious  Judge — sus- 
tain us,  by  Thy  grace,  and  fit  us,  for  Thy  glory !  And, 
unto  Thee,  with  the  Almighty  Father,  and  the  ever 
blessed  Spirit,  shall  be  ascribed,  forevermore,  the  glory 
and  the  praise.     Amen. 


*  SERMON  y. 

THE  LOYE  OF  THE  PEEISHABLE  MADE  PERFECT 
m  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  IMMORTAL. 

The  love  of  tlie  perishable  is  tlie  joroof,  as  it  is  the 
penalty,  of  the  Fall.  God  made  not  life,  for  death ;  nor, 
yet,  to  yearn  upon  the  dying.  In  all  that  blessed  Gar- 
den, there  was  no  token  of  decay :  no  autumn  leaf,  upon 
the  trees  ;  no  drought,  or  frost,  upon  the  streams ;  no 
blood,  upon  the  earth.  The  flowers  forever  bloomed ; 
the  fruits  Avere  always  ripe ;  the  fountains,  ever  full. 
There  was  but  God,  that  they  could  love  :  and  He  was 
life.  And,  when  they  looked  upon  each  other,  in  their 
loveliness  and  love,  it  was  the  immortal  gazing  on  the 
immortal.  What  ]3ure,  what  perfect,  what  perennial 
bliss  !  Love,  without  a  fear.  Love,  without  a  doubt. 
Love,  without  a  limit.  No  separation.  No  sorrow. 
No  satiety.  For  yesterday,  no  regret.  For  to-mor- 
row, no  apprehension.  Conscious  health.  Conscious 
strength.  Conscious  life.  Conscious  innocence.  Con- 
scious happiness.  Infinite  themes  for  thought ;  and 
minds,  commensurate  mth  their  infinitude.     Inexhaus- 

*  At  the  funeral  of  the  Rev.  Prof.  Ogilby,  March,  A.  D.  1851  ;  published  by 
request  of  the  Clergy,  Wardens,  and  Vestrymen  of  Trinity  Church,  New  York  ; 
where  it  was  delivered. 


560  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  PEKISHABLE  MADE  PERFECT 

tible  soiu'ces  of  enjoyment ;  and  hearts,  incapable  of  ex- 
haustion. Perfect  unity.  Perfect  confidence.  Perfect 
security.  Hope,  bursting  into  joy.  Peace,  deepening 
into  pleasure.  Love,  incapable  of  shame.  Life,  incapa- 
ble of  death. 

Sin  came ;  and  all  this  beautiful  description  reads 
backward,  like  a  witch's  prayer.  For  Paradise,  a  bleak 
and  barren  world.  For  the  communion  and  compan- 
ionship of  God,  sorrow,  and  solitude,  and  exile.  For 
life  immortal,  universal,  everlasting  death.  When 
shame  came,  first,  with  sin,  there  was  no  shelter  but  the 
leaves,  which  blushing  haste  snatched  from  the  trellised 
vine,  or  sj)reading  fig,  which  canopied  their  love.  But, 
Avhen  the  curse  had  come,  the  gentle  lamb,  the  sportive 
kid,  the  fleet  gazelle,  lay  weltering  in  their  blood,  to 
clothe  theii'  murderers  with  their  skins.  Who  can  im- 
agine the  wild  shriek,  which,  from  the  realms  of  nature, 
all,  went  uj),  when,  on  the  world  which  sin  had  ruined, 
the  curse  came  do^\Ti,  in  death.  With  what  astonish- 
ment, the  moaning  dam  gazed  on  her  yeanling,  as  it  lay, 
panting  and  struggling,  at  her  side  ;  and  how  the  lorn 
and  lovely  nightingale  poured  her  first  notes  of  sorrow, 
from  her  empty  nest.  Nature  all,  fell  into  "  the  sere 
and  yellow  leaf"  The  genial  air,  now,  scorched ;  now 
chilled ;  now,  froze.  The  river,  that  went  out  of  Eden, 
rushed,  with  maddening  force,  along  its  torn  and  trem- 
bling banks ;  or  left  them,  desolate  and  dry.  Blood 
was  upon  the  earth.  Blackness,  upon  the  sky.  By 
the  first  altar,  stood  the  first  child  of  the  first  parents ; 
the  murderer  of  his  only  brother.     "  By  one  man.  sin 


LN  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  IMMOETAL.        561 

entered  into  tlie  world  ;  and  death,  by  sin :  and,  so, 
death  passed  upon  all  men ;  for  that  all  have  sinned." 

The  death,  which  was  the  cause  of  sin,  was  not  the 
instantaneous  destruction  of  the  ruined  race.  As  you 
will  read  it,  in  the  margin  of  your  Bible,  it  was  a  "  dy- 
ing, thou  shalt  die  :  "  a  living  death ;  a  dying  life.  The 
throes  of  birth,  only  less  fearful  than  the  pangs  of  dis- 
solution. The  weakness  of  infancy,  reproduced,  in  the 
weakness  of  old  age.  One  half  our  years  employed  in 
toiling  up  the  hill ;  the  other  half,  in  tottering  down. 
The  pulses  of  our  life  beat  from  the  bell,  which  tolls 
our  death.  The  sands  forever  sinking  in  the  glass. 
The  first  gray  hair,  but  half  concealed,  among  the  gar- 
lands of  the  bridal.  And,  every  step  we  take,  wherever 
else  it  tend,  a  step  toward  the  tomb.  Is  it  not  true, 
even  beyond  the  letter,  "  dying,  thou  shalt  die  ? " 

And  this  is  not  the  worst.  Our  dying  nature  clings 
to  dying  natures.  Love  reproduces  life,  only  to  find  it 
death.  The  infant  does  but  draw  the  yearning  moth- 
er's heart  all  out  of  her,  to  drag  it  to  the  grave.  In 
hopeful  children,  that  untimely  fall,  parental  hearts 
die  ;  and  are  buried,  with  their  dust.  A  life-long  love, 
that  has  knit  in  the  very  heart-strings  with  each  other, 
is  rent  and  sundered,  by  the  lingering  touch  of  dull  de- 
cay ;  or,  in  a  moment,  crushed ;  when  a  horse  falls,  or 
when  a  ship  goes  down.  We  watch  the  hectic,  as  it 
spreads  upon  the  cheek  of  our  beloved ;  and  must  turn 
the  tears  in,  though  they  scald  the  heart.  We  count 
the  life-drops,  as  they  fall  from  the  dear  bosom,  where 

our  love  is  garnered ;  with  vain  desires  that  we  could 
VOL.  IV. — 36 


562     THE   LOVE   OF   THE   PERISHABLE   MADE   PERFECT 

reinforce  tliem  witli  our  own.  We  sit  in  silence  and  in 
solitude,  unsolaced  and  unsustained.  The  Lord  God 
prepares  a  gracious  vine,  to  come  up  over  us,  and 
shadow  our  heads,  and  console  us  in  our  grief ;  and  we 
are  exceeding  glad  of  the  vine.  But,  the  next  morn- 
ing, a  worm  has  touched  it,  and  it  withers.  And,  as 
the  hot  wind  scorches,  and  the  sun  beats  down  upon 
us,  we  faint,  and  wish  to  die ;  and  say,  in  our  impa- 
tience, "  It  is  better  for  us  to  die  than  to  live."  Is  not 
the  Prophet's  gourd  a  true  and  bitter  allegory  of  mortal 
love  and  mortal  life  ?  And  is  not  the  love  of  the  per. 
ishable  the  proof,  as  it  is  the  penalty,  of  the  Fall? 
And  is  this  all  there  is  ?  Is  the  sole  remnant  of  the 
trees  of  that  fair  garden  the  funereal  willow  1  Are  we 
still  left,  to  love  the  perishable ;  and  to  perish  in  our 
loving  ?  Is  death  to  be  the  end  of  life  ?  No,  my  be- 
loved !  As,  at  the  first,  the  tree  that  stood  in  the  midst 
of  that  untempted  Garden,  was  the  Tree  of  Life ;  so, 
now,  to  all  the  nations  that  have  perished  by  the  Fall, 
the  Tree  of  everlasting  life,  the  blessed  Cross  of  Jesus 
Christ,  presents,  to  their  obedient  faith,  its  precious 
and  immortal  fruits.  The  promise  of  the  woman's  seed 
has  been  fulfilled,  in  Him.  In  Him,  the  ruined  race 
has  been  restored.  He  "  bore  our  sins,  in  His  own 
body,  on  the  Tree."  And,  now,  for  all  who  will,  that 
bleeding  Tree  bears  pardon  and  salvation.  The  bath- 
ing of  His  blood  blots  out  our  sins,  and  transforms 
death  to  life.  "  Look  unto  Me,  and  be  ye  saved,  all  ye 
ends  of  the  earth."  "  God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He 
gave  His  only-begotten  Son,  that  whosoever  believeth 


IN  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  IMMORTAL.         563 

in  Him  should  not  perish,  but  have  everlasting  life." 
Bring  your  beloved,  then,  to  Him.  Lay  them  beneath 
His  Cross.  Kneel  with  them,  there,  in  penitential 
faith.  And,  in  the  love  for  Him,  which  His  redemp- 
tion challenges,  from  every  heart,  renew  and  con- 
secrate your  human  love.  He  will  bless  it.  He  will 
beautify  it,  beyond  the  beauty  of  poetic  dream.  He 
will  sustain  it  in  absence.  He  will  console  it  in  sor- 
row. He  will  succour  it  in  sickness.  He  will  immor- 
talize it  in  death.  The  perishable  shall  no  longer  per- 
ish, in  the  love  of  the  perishable ;  but  the  immortal  live 
forever,  in  a  new  and  glorious  life,  in  the  love  of  the 
Immortal. 

Dearly  beloved,  to  meet  your  doubting  faith,  and 
cheer  your  mourning  love,  and  help  you  upward,  to 
Himself,  He  bends  to  you  the  blessed  branches  of  the 
Tree  of  Life ;  and  bids  you  eat  of  it,  and  live.  He  bows 
Himself,  the  true  and  living  Vine,  that  you  may  press, 
from  the  full,  bursting  clusters,  the  streams  of  comfort 
and  salvation,  and  have  life  in  Him.  "  How  excellent  is 
Thy  mercy,  O  God.  And  the  children  of  men  shall 
put  their  trust  under  the  shadow  of  Thy  wings.  They 
shall  be  satisfied  with  the  j^lenteousnesss  of  Thy  house ; 
and  Thou  shalt  give  them  drink  of  Thy  pleasures,  as 
out  of  the  river.  For,  with  Thee,  is  the  well  of  life ; 
and  in  Thy  light,  we  shall  see  light." 

Such  thoughts  as  these  welled  up,  and  filled  my 
heart,  when  first  the  tidings  came,  that  Ogilby  was 
dead.  And,  bidden  here  to-day,  to  do  for  him  what,  in 
the  course  of  nature,  I  had  looked  that  he  should  do 


564  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  PERISHABLE  MADE  PEEFECT 

for  me,  I  could  but  open  it,  and  let  them  flow.  Grief 
would  be  silent,  if  it  might.  If  it  find  utterance,  it  will 
be  choked,  and  indistinct,  and  incoherent.  I  would 
most  gladly  kneel  beside  his  bier,  with  the  beloved 
mourners  that  surround  it ;  only  less  dear  to  my  heart 
than  to  his ;  and  mix,  with  theirs,  my  burning,  bitter 
tears  ;  the  stricken  heart's  true  utterance.  But  nature 
must  be  quelled  and  conquered,  here.  Jesus  might 
groan  within  Himself,  and  weep,  beside  the  grave  of 
Lazarus ;  but  He  must  still  proclaim  the  resurrection 
and  the  life,  and  preach  the  faith  to  which  alone  they 
are  assured.  And  I,  who  have  but  love  and  grief  to 
bring  to  the  dear  grave  that  opens  for  our  darling,  must 
strive  to  dry  your  tears ;  and  comfort  others,  when  I 
need  so  much  their  comfort  for  myself  I  had  long 
loved  him,  as  men  seldom  love  a  man  ;  and  he  had  well 
repaid  my  love.  For  many  years,  he  had  discharged, 
to  me,  with  all  the  truth  and  tenderness  of  nature,  the 
beautiful  relations  of  a  brother  and  a  son.  And  every 
form  of  soiTow,  that  God  ever  sends,  to  chasten  His  be- 
loved, had  only  been  to  them  a  surer  trial,  and  a  holier 
consecration.  One  half  my  heart  he  took  with  him 
abroad :  and  every  prayer  bore  up  to  heaven,  with  the 
beloved  of  my  hearth,  the  wanderer  of  our  love.  And, 
when  it  seemed  that  God  had  granted  our  j)etition8, 
and  that  another  month  would  bring  him  to  our  arms, 
the  tidings  came,  that,  at  the  moment,  when  his  memory 
was  sweetest  to  us,  in  that  blessed  Eucharistic  Feast, 
which  he  loved  so  well,  and  had  so  often  shared  with 
us ;  and  on  the  sacred  day,  when  Christendom  was  all 


LN  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  IMMORTAL.        565 

engaged  in  the  devout  commemoration  of  tlie  Saviour's 
first  appearance  in  His  temple,*  he  fell  asleep  in  Jesus, 
and  was  safe  with  God.  I  had  been  more  than  man, 
had  I  not  felt  my  heartstrings  tear.  I  had  been  less,  if, 
with  my  knowledge  of  the  dying  life  which  he  had 
lived  for  years ;  if,  with  my  experience  of  the  trials  of 
this  present  world,  and  of  the  Chm^ch  here  militant  on 
earth ;  if,  with  my  certainty,  as  perfect  as  belongs  to 
human  nature,  that  he  was  "  gathered  to  our  fathers, 
having  the  testimony  of  a  good  conscience,  in  the  com- 
munion of  the  Catholic  Church,  in  the  comfort  of  a 
reasonable,  religious,  and  holy  hope,  in  favour  with  our 
God,  and  in  perfect  charity  with  the  world,"  I  could  in- 
dulge the  selfish  wish,  that  he  were  here,  or  other  than 
he  is.  The  perishable  heart,  in  its  passionate  yearning 
for  the  perishable,  must  bleed.  But  the  immortal,  re- 
deemed, regenerated,  and  renewed,  is  healed,  and  com- 
forted, in  its  love  of  the  Immortal.  The  Cross  of  Christ, 
to  which  it  clings,  lifts  it  above  the  world.  It  can  say, 
"  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away." 
And  it  can  also  say,  "  Blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord." 
I  purpose  not  to  sketch  the  life  of  Dr.  Ogilby.  It 
has  been  done,  and  well  done,  with  a  pen  that  flowed 
with  truth  and  love,  by  one  f  who  was  his  college  com- 
panion, and  has  ever  been  his  more  than  friend.    It  will 


*  The  Rev.  Dr.  Ogilby  died  on  Sunday,  2d  February,  the  Feast  of  the  Pre- 
sentation of  Christ  in  the  Temple,  commonly  called,  The  Purification  of  St.  Mary 
the  Virgin ;  and,  allowing  for  the  difference  of  longitude,  at  about  the  time  of 
the  administration  of  the  Holy  Communion,  in  our  churches. 

f  The  Rev.  Dr.  Haight,  in  his  sermon,  in  the  chapel  of  the  General  Theologi- 
cal Seminary  ;  of  which  he  is  a  Professor. 


566  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  PEEISHABLE  MADE  PEEFECT 

be  done,  I  trust,  more  fully  and  deliberately,  tlian  occa- 
sions sucli  as  tliis  present.  All  that  I  propose  to  do,  is 
to  present  some  two  or  three  of  what  may  seem  the  sal- 
ient points  in  his  brief  pilgrimage,  with  the  relations 
which  they  bear  to  his  whole  life  and  character ;  and 
then  to  transfer,  from  my  heart  to  yours,  some  of  the 
beautiful  impressions,  which  have  been  burnt  into  it, 
until  they  are  a  part  of  it,  by  the  fervours  of  a  love,  that 
cannot  die. 

Dr.  Ogilby  was  born  in  Dublin,  on  the  last  day  but 
one  of  the  year  of  our  Lord,  one  thousand  eight  hun- 
dred and  ten.  Though  he  left  his  native  land,  before 
he  was  six  years  old,  no  one  could  know  him,  and  not 
feel  how  true  it  is,  that,  when  you  find  an  Irish  gentle- 
man, you  find  a  perfect  gentleman.  Genial,  cordial, 
generous ;  just  off  his  guard  enough  to  show  his  race  ; 
he  loved  to  claim  for  the  half  blunder  and  half  badinage, 
in  which  he  sometimes  caught  himself,  the  national  pro- 
tection. His  early  education,  though  he  had,  in  two 
instances,  at  least,  most  admirable  masters,  *  was  irreg- 
ular and  spasmodic ;  and,  at  one  time,  he  had  well  nigh 
determined  on  a  life  of  business.  But  he  was  bom  to 
be  a  scholar ;  and  the  sure  re-action  came,  and  "  with  a 
will."  Admitted  to  the  Freshman  class,  in  that  venera- 
ble Institution,  which  is  your  city's  brightest  ornament, 
at  the  close  of  one  academic  year,  he  presented  himself 
to  be  admitted  Sophomore,  at  the  opening  of  the  next : 
and  had  so  thoroughly  achieved  the  year's  curriculum, 
in  the  mere  summer  vacation,  as  to  gain  the  point 
proposed,  under  the  fiery  ordeal  of  the  strictest  and 

*  The  Rev.  William  rowell,  and  Mr.  Pelham  Clark. 


IN   THE  LOVE  OF  THE  IMMOETAL.        56T 

most  rigorous  examination.  Tliiis  was  the  boy  "  the 
father  of  the  man."  He  could  alwaj^s  do  more,  in  less 
time,  and  do  it  better,  than  any  man  I  ever  knew.  Nor 
was  this  his  most  remarkable  achievement.  When  yet 
a  member  of  the  Junior  class,  and  only  seventeen  years 
of  age,  he  was  selected,  by  one  who  knew  men  well,  the 
venerable  Dr.  Harris,  then  the  President,  to  be  the  first 
Kector  of  the  Grammar  School  of  Columbia  College. 
The  wisdom  of  the  choice  was  well  sustained.  He  es- 
tablished the  school.  He  raised  it  to  great  celebrity. 
He  conducted  it  with  distinguished  success.  Though 
but  a  boy,  he  governed  boys,  as  pupils,  and  men,  as 
teachers,  with  consummate  skill.  He  kept  up  his  col- 
lege studies  all  the  while,  so  as  to  graduate  with  his 
class;  and  he  destroyed  his  health.  The  trenchant 
blade,  of  true  Damascus  temper,  had  cut  through  the 
sheath.  In  over-study,  over- work,  and  over-care,  the  in- 
sidious disease  was  born  and  nurtured,  which,  "  like  a 
moth,  fretting  a  garment,"  gnawed  at  his  heart-strings, 
thi'ough  a  life  of  suffering,  and  severed  them,  at  last. 
In  1833,  then  twenty- three,  he  was  appointed,  under 
most  honoui-able  circumstances,  the  Professor  of  the 
Greek  and  Latin  languages,  in  Rutgers'  College,  New- 
Brunswick  ;  then,  as  now,  eminently  distinguished  for 
the  ability  and  learning  of  its  Faculty.  And  he  dis- 
charged the  duties  of  his  office  so  faithfully  and  so  suc- 
cessfully, that,  in  1841,  when  the  office  of  Professor  of 
Ecclesiastical  Histoiy,  in  our  General  Theological  Semi- 
nary, became  vacant  by  the  consecration  of  its  distin- 
guished incumbent  to  the  Episcopate  of  Maryland,  the 


568  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  PEEISHABLE  MADE  PEEFECT 

sagacious  mind  of  its  munificent  founder,  tlie  lamented 
Mr.  Stuyvesant,  selected  him  to  fill  tlie  vacancy :  and 
tlie  Cliurcli  long  since  confii-med  tlie  action  of  the  Trus- 
tees, in  their  adoption  of  the  nomination.  During  his 
residence  at  Kutgers'  College,  he  pui-sued  his  studies  in 
theology,  so  as  to  be  admitted,  in  1838,  by  the  Bishop 
of  New  York,  to  Deacons'  orders,  and  to  Priests'.  In 
the  following  year,  he  became  a  Presbyter  of  New  Jer- 
sey ;  and  officiated,  as  Missionary,  in  connection  with 
his  Professorship,  most  faithfully  and  usefully,  in  the 
vacant  and  feeble  parishes,  and  waste-places,  which  lie 
around  New-Brunsmck.  His  transfer  to  the  diocese  of 
New  Jersey  was  characteristic  of  himself  He  belonged, 
canonically,  to  the  largest  of  the  dioceses.  He  cast  his 
lot  in  with  almost  the  smallest ;  at  that  time  not  one 
half  what  it  is  now.  He  did  so,  on  the  ground  of 
duty.  He  did  so,  that  he  might  be  useful.  He  did  so, 
that  he  might  serve  God,  and  save  the  souls  of  men. 
His  labours  were  the  laboui's  of  true  love.  His  record 
is  in  heaven.  His  distinguished  services,  in  the  chair 
of  Ecclesiastical  History,  are  too  well  known  to  need 
consideration  here.  Not  a  diocese  in  all  our  land, 
where  one  and  another  of  the  zealous  and  devoted 
alumni  of  our  Seminary — zealous  and  devoted,  all  the 
more,  for  the  l^ui'ning  light  of  his  example — will  not  rise 
up,  and  call  him  blessed :  while  the  records  of  the  Stand- 
ing Committee  of  the  Trustees,  who  were  eye-witnesses 
of  his  self-sacrificing  service  ;  and  of  the  learned  and 
venerable  Professors,  who  laboured  with  him  in  the 
nurture  and  instruction  of  the  young  men,  whom  the 


IN  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  IMMORTAL.         569 

Cliurcli  regards  as  lier  chief  hope ;  with  their  spontaneous 
expressions,  who  were  accustomed  to  sit,  as  learners,  at 
his  feet,  will  bear,  to  after  ages,  the  fullest  and  the  strong- 
est attestation  of  his  learning,  as  a  scholar ;  his  ability,  as 
a  teacher ;  his  loveliness,  as  a  man ;  his  imreserving  self- 
devotion,  as  a  minister  of  Jesus  Chi'ist.  Nor  did  the 
lustre  of  his  beautiful  example  shut  itself  up  in  its  own 
immediate  sphere  of  duty.  The  records  of  the  Vestry 
of  Trinity  Church,  and  of  the  students  and  alumni  of 
Burlington  College,  are  radiant  with  his  name.  The 
fathers  of  our  oldest  sacred  corporation  are  here,  to 
bow  their  venerable  heads,  in  silent  submission  to  the 
holy  will  of  God ;  and  more  than  a  score  of  the  sons  of 
our  youngest  College  have  come  up,  together  with  their 
teachers,  to  weep  with  us  the  tears  of  their  first  sorrow. 
That  such  a  mark  should  have  been  made,  in  less  than 
forty  years,  and  that  with  a  physical  system  to  which, 
for  half  that  time,  health  was  unknown ;  while  it  en- 
hances, to  oui*  hearts,  the  weight  of  our  great  loss,  de- 
mands from  them  the  tribute  of  our  gratitude  to  Him, 
who  lent  us  such  a  man  so  long.  The  time  would  fail 
me  to  attempt  to  tell  the  countless  ways  in  which  his 
ready  hand  obeyed  his  active  mind,  in  works  of  love 
and  labour  for  the  Church.  He  was  always  as  ready 
to  preach  the  Gospel,  as  he  was  accej)table  in  preaching 
it ;  and  more  cannot  be  said.  And  he  preferred  the 
places  where  poor  people  pray,  to  those  where  wealth, 
intelligence,  and  influence  congregate.  His  pen.  was  as 
prompt,  as  it  was  powei-fril.  The  work,  of  which  he 
made  a  conscience,  the  qualifying  of  himself  to  fill  the 


5^0  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  PERISHABLE  MADE  PEEFECT 

difficult  and  influential  post,  where  Providence  had 
placed  him,  as  yet  allowed  him  but  little  time  for  the 
deliberate  work  of  authorship.  He  hoped,  at  no  re- 
motely distant  period,  to  attempt,  what  has  not  yet 
been  fidly  furnished,  a  History  of  the  Church.  But, 
more  than  once,  he  met  the  exigency  of  the  times,  in 
publications,  which  were  at  once  honourable  to  himself, 
and  serviceable  to  the  occasions  which  produced  them. 
In  the  Convention  of  the  diocese  of  New  Jersey,  he  was 
always  active,  energetic,  and  influential :  and  no  man, 
of  his  years,  has  ever  taken  a  higher  stand,  in  the  Gen- 
eral Convention,  for  learning,  or  for  eloquence.  In  the 
foundation  of  Burlington  College,  and  in  its  adminis- 
tration as  a  Trustee,  his  services  were  invaluable.  Not 
a  provision,  in  instruction,  or  in  discipline,  that  did  not 
pass  the  scrutiny  of  his  full  and  searching  mind.  Not 
an  interest  connected  with  it,  that  had  not  the  entire 
devotion  of  his  warm  and  noble  heart.  I  bear  my  rec- 
ord here — and  they  are  few  that  mil  dissent  from  it — 
that,  in  Dr.  Ogilby,  the  diocese  had,  and  has  lost,  a 
treasure,  never  to  be  estimated.  An  inmate,  for  twelve 
years,  not  of  my  house  only,  but  of  my  heart ;  an  elder 
brother  to  my  childi'en;  the  sharer  of  my  closest 
thoughts ;  the  partner  of  my  counsels  and  my  cares ; 
next  to  me,  always,  in  the  hour  of  trial ;  and,  in  a  sick- 
ness, that  was  only  not  a  sickness  unto  death,  adminis- 
tering to  me  the  holiest  consolations  of  our  religion,  un- 
der the  ^-ery  shadow  of  the  grave  :  what  have  I  not  lost, 
in  him  ?  Do  I  not  need  your  pity  ?  Shall  I  not  have 
your  prayers  ? 


IN  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  IMMOETAL.         571 

The  attempt,  to  convey  a  just  impression  of  the 
character  of  Dr.  Ogilby,  is  strangely  embarrassed,  by 
its  singular  completeness,  consistency,  and  harmony.  It 
strikes  you,  as  a  whole,  rather  than  in  any  of  its  parts. 
Like  some  exquisite  mosaic,  where  an  infinite  variety 
of  tints  and  shades  combine,  to  make  a  perfect  picture. 
I  shall  not  attempt  a  philosophical  analysis.  I  shall 
but  strike  off,  from  my  heart,  as  it  retains  them,  and 
for  ever  will,  the  beautifal  and  graceful  features,  which 
made  up  the  portraiture. 

There  was,  in  Dr.  Ogilhj,  a  singular  vitality  and 
mvidness.  He  was  always  all  alive.  You  never  could 
mistake  him,  or  his  meaning.  No  one,  that  saw  him 
once,  could  fail  to  get  the  most  distinct  impression.  It 
was  not  in  the  eager  glance  of  his  keen  eye.  It  was 
not  in  the  well-defined  and  sculptm^ed  outline  of  his 
face.  It  was  not  in  his  direct,  straightforward,  positive 
approach.  It  was  all  these  :  and  it  was  more.  It  was 
a  kind  of  radiance,  that  beamed  from  him.  A  light 
from  within — luce  di  dentro — as  the  Italian  artists  call 
it.  You  felt  it,  though  you  might  not  think  of  it ;  and, 
when  it  had  been  felt,  it  never  was  forgotten. 

He  was  a  man  of  wonderful  reality.  He  has  been 
called,  an  earnest  man ;  but  that  was  only  part  of  it. 
No  one  could  ever  doubt  him.  He  gave  you  all  his 
heart.  He  gave  it  to  whatever  he  undertook.  He 
could  do  nothing  for  appearance.  He  had  no  toler- 
ance for  shams.  He  went  half-way,  in  nothing.  He 
had  the  highest  standard,  and  held  himself  up  to  it. 


5*72  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  PEEISHABLE  MADE  PERFECT 

The  true  foundation  of  tliis  portion  of  his  character  was 
genuine  humility.  I  remember  well,  when  he  was  ap- 
pointed to  the  Ecclesiastical  History  Professorship. 
His  studies  had  not  lain  that  way.  He  was  to  succeed 
a  man  of  rare  ability,  and  wonderful  attainments.  He 
was  to  do  it  at  short  notice.  He  was  to  do  it  with  im- 
perfect and  uncertain  health.  He  came  at  once  to  see 
me.  He  opened  all  his  case.  He  told  me  of  his 
doubts  and  difficulties.  He  laid  his  plans  before  me. 
He  desired  my  judgment,  as  to  their  judiciousness. 
He  felt  much  more  than  his  true  inadequacy  to  the 
work.  He  proposed  much  more  than  its  just  require- 
ments called  for.  He  avowed,  in  deep  humility,  his 
self-devotion  to  the  enterprise.  He  confessed,  with  per- 
fect artlessness,  his  fears  for  the  result ;  and  he  applied, 
in  his  own  playful  way,  the  encouragement  which  I 
gave  him,  in  the  homely  distich,  which,  he  thought, 
described  his  case,  and  stated  his  defence : 

"  He  hobbled  ;  but  his  heart  was  good  : 
Could  he  go  faster  than  he  could  1 " 

When  Dr.  Ogilby  had  given  himself  to  any  object, 
he  had  entirely  given  himself.  If  he  was  to  meet  me  at 
some  point,  on  an  Episcopal  Visitation,  he  was  there,  if 
he  had  to  walk.  When  it  was  thought  that  he  might 
serve  a  great  and  holy  cause,  by  going  to  England,  in 
its  behalf,  he  had  decided,  while  the  proposal  was  half 
uttered.  It  was  the  same,  in  the  class-room.  It  was 
the  same,  in  the  library.  It  was  the  same,  every^vhere. 
What  he  did  was  always  heart- work.  He  did  it  with 
his  might. 


IN"  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  IMMOETAL.         573 

He  was  of  that  exquisite  tenderness,  wliicJi  only 
women  and  hrave  men  possess.  You  saw  it,  or  you  felt 
it,  rather,  in  a  thousand  different  ways.  In  its  larger 
developements  of  hospitality  and  generosity,  he  never 
was  surpassed.  It  was  even  more  attractive  in  its  mi- 
nor forms.  He  was  thoughtful  in  the  smallest  things. 
The  proprieties  of  his  tenderness  were  perfect.  When 
a  dear  friend  had  triumphed,  in  a  struggle  more  than 
for  life,  he  hastened,  from  the  rejoicings  of  the  hour,  to 
bear  the  tidings  to  an  anxious  woman.  When  a  ser- 
vant, who  had  come  from  where  his  family  resided,  fol- 
lowed his  dead  wife  to  the  grave,  he  took  his  arm,  and 
walked  with  him,  and  wept  with  him.  And  his  last 
public  act  was  to  leave  his  bed  of  sickness,  to  preach 
the  funeral  sermon  for  a  beloved  physician.*  "  His 
head  was  good  enough,"  one  writes,  of  him  ;  "  but  what 
a  heart !  I  loved  him,  as  a  man  might  love  a  woman." 
And,  for  myself,  I  can  adopt  the  words  of  David's  lam- 
entation, on  Gilboa :  "  I  am  distressed  for  thee,  my 
brother ;  very  pleasant  hast  thou  been  to  me  ;  thy  love 
to  me  was  wonderful." 

There  followed,  from  all  this,  an  irresistible  attract- 
iveness. I  had  abimdanfc  opportunities  to  judge  of  this. 
He  was  certain  to  be  with  me,  when  he  could  be,  at  the 
Visitations  of  my  Diocese  ;  and  the  welcome,  which  I 
always  found,  at  every  hearth,  was  doubled,  when  he 
was  with  me.  He  was  alike,  at  home,  in  the  most  ele- 
gant society,  and  among  the  poorest  and  the  plainest ; 

*  The  late  Dr.  Macdonald. 


574  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  PEKISHABLE  MADE  PEEFECT 

and  every  face  was  brighter,  when  he  came.  To  chil- 
dren, he  was  most  especially  attractive ;  and,  when  he 
visited  St.  Mary's  Hall,  or  Burlington  College,  it  made 
a  sunshine,  in  the  cloudiest  day. 

He  was  a  man  of  luonderful  efficiency.  He  would 
certainly  have  excelled,  in  any  line  of  life.  His  busi- 
ness talents  were  of  the  highest  order.  He  was  as  en- 
ergetic in  execution  as  he  was  skilful  in  design ;  and 
prompt,  alike,  in  both.  With  ordinary  health,  how 
much  he  might  have  brought  about !  Had  he  attained 
the  allotted  threescore  years  and  ten,  what  limit  to  the 
results  of  such  ability  and  devotion  !  But  it  was  not 
to  be  so.  He  never  had  been  young.  He  had  done 
more  than  man's  work,  when  he  was  a  boy.  He  had 
always  lain  under  a  man's  responsibilities.  He  had 
lived  his  life  out,  at  thirty-nine. 

He  had  attained^  in  Ms  short  life^  a  most  extensive 
influentialness.  It  was  intuitively  granted  to  him.  It 
was  the  natural  tribute  to  such  reality,  such  tenderness, 
and  such  efficiency.  For  the  learning  of  the  scholar,  for 
the  prudence  of  the  counsellor,  for  the  helping  hand  of 
the  executive,  how  many  looked  to  him,  and  leaned  on 
him !  How  many  miss  him,  now !  His  cheering  look, 
his  friendly  grasp,  his  kindly  word  !  How  many  more 
will  miss  him,  as  the  sad  certainty  reveals  itself,  that 
he  is  gone  ! 

Though,  in  the  course  of  Providence,  the  life  of  Dr. 
Ogilby  was  almost  wholly  academic,  I  think  the  true 


IN"   THE    LOVE   OF   THE   IMMORTAL,  575 

bent  of  his  religious  natui'e  was  the  pastoral.  The 
priestly  offices  were  his  delight :  to  preach  the  Gospel 
of  salvation ;  to  minister  the  means  of  grace ;  to  cate- 
chize the  young ;  to  comfort  the  sick ;  to  visit  the  af- 
flicted. He  would  have  been  the  model  of  a  parish 
priest.  He  was  a  true  Catholic  Churchman.  He  had 
not  in  him  the  possibility  of  sympathy  with  Komish 
error.  How  clearly  he  demonstrated  the  faithfulness 
of  his  allegiance  to  the  Chui'ch,  in  which  his  vows  were 
paid,  in  his  complete  and  perfect  answers  to  the  ques- 
tions addressed  to  him,  at  the  Visitation  of  the  Semi- 
naiy,  in  1844.  They  were  prepared,  I  know,  off-hand. 
They  flowed  out  from  his  well-stored  mind,  as  the  rich 
juices  from  the  full  ripe  grape.  He  preached,  in  all  its 
fulness,  clearness  and  distinctness,  the  Gospel  in  the 
Chm-ch.  He  led  the  sinner  to  the  Lamb  of  God,  Whose 
blood  had  washed  away  his  sins.  He  urged  the  duty 
of  repentance.  He  taught  the  indispensable  necessity 
of  the  renewal  of  the  heart  by  grace.  His  soul's  de- 
light was  in  the  worship  of  the  Church.  Before  he 
had  completed  his  country  residence,  he  began  to  rear 
a  wayside  chapel,  by  the  gate ;  that  the  neighbours  and 
the  wayfarers  might  worship  with  his  house.  And  the 
chief  provision,  in  his  last  Will  and  Testament,  was  to 
secure,  for  perpetuity,  its  sacred  designation.  His 
guides  and  counsellors,  in  the  communion,  which  he 
held,  with  God,  in  private,  were  Bishop  Andi^ewes'  De- 
votions, Bishop  Wilson's  Sacra  Privata,  and  Bishop 
Taylor's  Holy  Living  and  Holy  Dying.  The  last  let- 
ter, which  he  wrote  to  me,  was  dated  "  Chi'istmas  Day." 


576  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  PEEISHABLE  MADE  PEEFECT 

It  was  full  of  kindness,  tenderness,  and  true  devotion. 
The  next  week  lie  went  to  Paris.  For  a  while,  lie 
seemed  to  be  mucli  better.  His  last  letter  was  fuller 
of  hope  and  encouragement,  than  any  he  had  written. 
It  was  the  fitful  flame  of  the  expiring  lamp.  In  three 
days  he  was  dead.  But  he  died  not  suddenly,  or 
unprepared.  He  embarked  for  Europe,  on  the  21st  day 
of  November,  1849.  A  week  before  that,  I  spent  the 
day  with  him,  and  administered  to  him,  in  the  midst  of 
his  beloved,  the  holy  sacrament  of  the  Supper  of  the 
Lord.  I  never  -witnessed  a  more  solemn  and  affectmg 
scene.  He  fully  knew  his  danger.  He  fully  realized, 
that  he  never  might  return.  Indeed,  though  he  had 
hope  of  restoration ;  he  was  aware  that  a  few  weeks  or 
months  might  terminate  his'  life.  He  spoke  to  me  as 
calmly  as  he  ever  did.  He  avowed  his  simple  and  en- 
tire dependence,  for  acceptance  and  salvation,  on  the 
Cross  of  Jesus  Christ.  He  submitted  himself,  in  per- 
fect resignation,  to  the  holy  will  of  God.  Whether  he 
lived,  or  died,  he  was  the  Lord's.  His  letters  all  have 
breathed  the  same  devout  and  tranquil  spirit.  In  his 
last  weeks,  he  was  even  more  than  usually  engaged  in 
prayer  and  meditation.  And,  when  the  summons 
came,  to  call  him  home,  he  met  it,  as  a  child,  that  falls, 
in  weariness,  upon  his  mother's  breast :  and,  with  the 
simple  sentence,  "  I  am  tired,"  upon  his  lips,  he  entered 
into  rest.  Into  the  secret  j)laces  of  her  sorrow,  who 
found  herself  alone  with  death,  among  the  myriads  of 
that  crowded  city ;  and,  who,  thence,  pursued  her  soli- 
tary way,  beside  his  sacred  ashes,  through  the  storms 


IN  THE  LOVE  OF  THE  IMMOETAL.        577 

of  tHe  Atlantic,  no  mortal  may  intrude.  Nor  trespass 
on  tliat  consecrated  liearth,  by  whicli  a  mother,  sisters, 
brothers,  children,  blend  their  tears,  -with  hers.  The 
CoMEOETEE  alone  can  comfort  them.  And  He,  who  is 
the  Sanctifiee,  too,  can  make  this  most  afflictive  provi- 
dence a  fountain  fall  of  blessings,  to  His  Church,  and 
to  ourselves.  And  our  dead  Ogilby  have  power,  from 
Him,  to  draw  us  from  the  world  and  sin  and  self,  to  be 
where  he  is  ;  while  he  waits,  in  peaceful  hope,  the  com- 
ing of  the  Lord.  It  will  be  so,  if  we  learn,  from  him, 
that  this  is  not  om^  rest.  It  will  be  so,  if  we  learn,  from 
him,  that  our  true  life  is  hid,  with  Christ.  It  will  be 
so,  if  we  learn  from  him,  to  take  the  Cross  jrp  daily,  and 
go  after  Jesus.  It  will  be  so,  if  we  learn  from  him,  to 
prefer  the  Church  of  the  living  God  to  our  chief  joy. 
So  shall  our  life  be  Christ ;  and  death,  our  gain.  And, 
so,  when  Christ,  Who  is  our  life,  shall  appear,  shall  we 
also  appear  mth  Him,  in  glory.  To  Whom,  one  with 
the  Father,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  Three  Persons,  and 
One  only  God,  shall  ever  be  ascribed  the  glory  and  the 
praise.     Amen. 


VOL.  IV. — 37 


^  SERMON  YI. 

THE  SACKED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOKROW. 

How  sacred  is  the  sympatliy  of  sorrow  !  It  is  tlie 
"  toucli  of  nature  "  wliicli  "  makes  the  whole  world  kin." 
It  melted  the  humanity  of  Jesus,  as  He  stood  by  that 
new  grave ;  and  it  is  with  Him,  now,  that  He  has 
"  passed  into  the  heavens,"  and  stands  where  Stephen 
saw  Him,  "  a  great  High  Priest,"  "  touched  with  the 
feeling  of  our  infirmities." 

The  river  which,  at  first,  went  out  of  Eden,  is  salt 
and  bitter  since  the  Fall.  It  is  the  river,  now,  of  tears, 
and  waters  still  the  world  which  man  inhabits.  The 
electric  spark  which,  in  twelve  hours,  had  flashed  your 
sorrow  on  my  heart,  opened  its  secret  sources  and  over- 
flowed my  manhood.  I  have  wept  among  my  children ; 
I  have  wept  beside  his  grave ;  and  I  am  here  to  weep 
with  you. 

It  was  an  ancient  Roman  superstition  that  the  place 
was  sacred  which  the  lia-htnins;  struck.  How  sacred 
must  the  spot  be  ever  held  where  I  now  stand,  on 
which  the  lambent  flame  of  love  from  God  did  but  dis- 

*  Preached  in  the  Church  of  the  Advent,  Boston,  Dec.  7th,  A.  D.  1851 ;  in 
commemoration  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Croswell,  and  printed  by  request. 


THE  SACKED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOEROW.       579 

solve  the  bonds  whicli  held  it  here,  to  set  the  spirit  of 
our  darling  free,  and  bid  it  welcome  to  the  heaven 
which  Cheist  had  opened  for  it !  And  how  cold  and 
dead  must  be  our  hearts,  if,  in  the  light  of  such  an  Eu- 
thanasia, they  be  not  waked  from  their  dull  dreams  of 
earth,  and  do  not  imp  their  wings  to  take  the  upward 
flight  by  which  he  went  to  be  mth  Jesus  !  Oh,  that 
the  simple  words  which  I  am  now  (please  God),  to 
speak,  may  have,  through  grace,  the  unction  of  his  life ; 
may  bear,  through  grace,  the  urgent  warning  of  his 
death ;  may  win  your  souls,  through  grace,  to  holiness, 
with  the  attraction  which  drew  him  to  heaven  ! 

William  Ceoswell  was  born  in  Hudson,  New 
York,  on  the  Tth  day  of  November,  1804.  He  was 
among  that  great  company  of  the  preachers  who  were 
not  born  in  the  Church  which  their  hearts  have  after- 
wards embraced,  and  to  which  their  lives  have  been 
devoted.  He  was  thus  not  baptized  till  1813,  before 
which  time  his  father  had  removed  to  Albany,  and  had 
become  a  Churchman.  A  nobler  Churchman  does  not 
live,  nor  one  that  has  done  better  service  to  the  Chmxh, 
than  the  Rector  of  Trinity  Church,  New  Haven.  The 
lines  which  William  has  recorded  with  the  date  of  his 
own  two-and-thirtieth  bii^thday,  need  no  deduction  on 
the  score  of  filial  love,  but  are  as  true  as  if  they  were 
not  wi'itten  by  a  son. 

"  My  father,  proud  am  I  to  bear 

Thy  face,  thy  form,  thy  stature ; 
But  happier  far,  might  I  but  share 
More  of  thy  better  nature  ; 


580       THE  SACEED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOKROW. 

Thy  patient  progress  after  good, 

All  obstacles  disdaining ; 
Thy  courage,  faith,  and  fortitude, 

And  spirit  uncomplaining. 

"  Then,  for  the  day  that  I  was  born 

Well  might  I  joy,  and  borrow- 
No  longer  of  the  coming  morn 

Its  trouble  or  its  sorrow  : 
Content  I'd  be  to  take  my  chance 

In  either  world,  possessing, 
For  my  complete  inheritance. 

Thy  virtues  and  thy  blessing." 

It  is  not  now  the  time  to  dwell  upon  his  childliood 
or  Ms  youth.  He  was,  throughout,  a  loving  and  obe- 
dient son,  singularly  true  and  just  in  thought  and  word 
and  deed,  transparent  in  his  conscientiousness  as  purest 
chrystal.  As  an  instance  of  it :  when  a  child  at  school, 
he  was  called  up  by  his  master,  and  sharply  reproved 
for  talking.  "  No,  sii',"  his  answer  was,  "  I  was  not 
talking ;  but  I  was  just  going  to !  "  The  boy  was 
"  father  of  the  man."  He  was  devout  from  his  child- 
hood, and  had  read  the  Bible  so  constantly  that  most 
of  it  was  in  his  memory.  The  memories  of  home  have 
never  found  a  fitter  utterance  than  in  the  lines, — ^worthy 
of  Bums  and  like  him, — which  he  addressed  to  his,  when 
he  had  left  it  for  the  world. 

"  I  knew  my  father's  chimney-top, 

Though  nearer  to  my  heart  than  eye ; 
And  watched  the  blue  smoke  reeking  up 
Between  me  and  the  winter  sky. 


THE  SACEED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOKKOW.       581 

"  Wayworn,  I  traced  the  homeward  track 
My  wayward  youth  had  left  with  joy ; 
Unchanged  in  soul  I  wandered  back, 
A  man  in  years,  in  heart  a  boy. 

"  I  thought  upon  its  cheerful  hearth, 
And  cheerful  hearts'  untainted  glee ; 
And  felt,  of  all  I'd  seen  on  earth, 
This  was  the  dearest  spot  to  me." 

And  seldom  has  a  pious  motlier's  influence  been  owned 
more  feelingly  and  faithfully  than  in  the  lines  addressed 
to  his,  when  he  was  thirty  years  of  age : 

"  Oft,  as  I  muse  on  all  the  wrong, 

The  silent  grief,  the  secret  pain, 
My  froward  youth  hath  caused,  I  long 

To  live  my  childhood  o'er  again. 
And  yet  they  are  not  all  in  vain, 

The  lessons  which  thy  love  then  taught, 
Nor  always  has  it  dormant  lain, 

The  fire  from  thy  example  caught. 

"  And  now,  as  feelings  all  divine 

With  deepest  power  my  spirit  touch, 
I  feel  as  if  some  prayer  of  thine. 

My  mother  !  were  availing  much. 
Thus  be  it  ever  more  and  more. 

Till  it  be  thine  in  bliss  to  see 
The  hopes,  with  which  thy  heart  runs  o'er 

In  fondest  hours,  fulfilled  in  me." 

We  are  reminded  of  Saint  Augustine's  mother  by 
these  lines,  and  feel  the  assurance  which  was  given  to 
her,  that  the  child  of  prayers  and  tears,  like  hers,  could 
not  be  lost.     His  early  education  was  received  in  New 


582      THE  SACEED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOEEOW. 

Haven  *  and  its  neiglibourliood.  He  was,  at  one  pe- 
riod, tlie  Catecliumen  of  him  wliom  the  whole  Church 
rejoices  in  as  Bishop  of  Western  New  York,  Doctor  De- 
lancey,  then  a  student  in  Yale  College ;  and  he  never 
ceased  to  speak  of  his  instructions  with  the  most  affec- 
tionate and  grateful  reverence.  He  was  himself  also,  a 
graduate  of  the  same  ancient  and  distinguished  Univer- 
sity, having  received  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts  in 
1822.  His  first  Communion  was  at  the  Christmas  in 
that  year.  He  did  not  become  a  candidate  for  Orders 
till  1826.  Though  evidently  destined  for  the  ministry, 
his  diffidence  and  self-distrust  kept  him  back.  For  a 
while,  he  contemplated  the  practice  of  medicine  as  his 
profession.  His  theological  studies  were  pursued,  in 
part,  at  the  General  Seminary,  but  chiefly  under  the  di- 
rection of  the  excellent  Bishop  of  Connecticut,  whom, 
now  my  brother,  it  is  my  pleasure  also  to  acknowledge 
as  my  Master  in  theology.  It  was  in  1826  that  our  inti- 
mate relations  commenced ;  and  man  has  never  been  in 
closer  bonds  with  man,  than  he  with  me,  for  five  and 
twenty  years.  A  letter  from  him  to  a  mutual  fiiend, 
the  witness  and  the  sharer  of  our  earliest  years  of  hap- 
piness, brings  down  the  tokens  of  his  unreserving  confi- 
dence and  perfect  love  within  the  latest  fortnight  of  his 
life.  I  do  not  hesitate  to  speak  thus  personally,  be- 
cause your  invitation  to  me,  to  preach  here,  is  predi- 
cated mainly  on  these  intimate  relations ;  and,  only  for 

*  He  was  prepared  for  college  by  an  excellent  teacher,  Mr.  Joel  Jones,  since 
greatly  distinguished  as  Mayor  of  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  a  Judge  in  its  highest 
Courts,  and  President  of  Girard  College. 


THE  SACKED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOEEOW.       583 

their  dear  sake,  could  I  liave  left  my  duties  to  be  with 
you. 

He  came  to  Hartford,  where  I  was  then  Professor  in 
Washington  (now  Trinity)  College,  at  Bishop  Brow- 
nell's  instance,  to  be  associated  with  me  in  the  direction 
of  the  Episcopal  Watchman.  I  remember,  as  if  it  were 
but  yesterday,  our  earliest  meeting  at  a  hearth  as  bright 
and  blessed  *  as  was  ever  kindled  by  the  glow  of  Chris- 
tian hospitality ;  and  never  was  a  happier  circle  gath- 
ered than  met  there,  almost  nightly,  for  years.  Our 
intercourse  was  intimate  at  once,  and  we  never  had  a 
feeling  or  a  thought  to  part  us.  His  contributions  to 
the  Watchman  were  chiefly  poetical.  The  following 
sonnet  was  the  first. 

"  Oh,  Thou,  whom  slumber  reaeheth  not  nor  sleep, 

The  Guardian  God  of  Zion,  in  whose  sight 

A  thousand  years  pass  like  a  watch  at  night, 
Her  battlements  and  high  munitions  keep. 

Or  else  the  Watchman  waketh  but  in  vain ! 
Him,  in  his  station  newly  set,  make  strong. 

And,  in  his  vigils,  vigilant ;  sustain 
His  overwearied  spirit  in  its  long 
And  lonely  round,  from  eve  till  matin  song ; 

And  of  Thy  charge  remind  him, — '  Watch  and  pray  ! ' 
So,  whether  coming  at  the  midnight  bell, 

Or  at  cockcrowing,  or  at  break  of  day. 
Thou  find  him  faithful,  and  say — '  All   is  well ! ' 
How  rich  is  the  reward  of  that  true  Sentinel !  " 

Could  it  have  been  any  better,  or  any  different,  if 

*  When  I  name  Dr.  Sumner's,  how  many  hearts  will  answer !  She,  who  was 
its  chiefest  joy,  was  taken  from  her  loved  ones  with  as  little  warning  as  our  dear 
mutual  friend.     "  How  grows,  in  Paradise,  our  store !  " 


584  THE   SACEED    SYMPATHY   OF   SOEEOW. 

lie  had  been  premonislied  of  Ms  course  tlirougli  life,  or 
if  he  had  written  it  on  the  day  on  which  his  life  was 
closed?  His  poetical  contributions  to  the  Episcopal 
Watchman  were  numerous,  in  addition  to  his  invalua- 
ble services  as  editor ;  and  they  won  for  him  a  high 
and  honourable  place  among  the  very  few  to  whom  the 
name  of  Poet  can  be  given.  Every  thing  that  he  ever 
wrote  in  verse  was  strictly  occasional.  It  was  so  much 
of  his  heart-life  set  to  music.  He  lived  it,  every  line. 
And  it  was  all  inspired  at  the  hearth-side,  or  at  the  al- 
tar-foot. It  was  domestic  often,  always  sacred.  He 
fulfilled,  in  every  verse,  that  beautiful  suggestion  of  the 
sky-lark  to  the  mind  of  Wordsworth, — 

"  Type  of  the  wise,  who  soar  but  never  roam, 
True  to  the  kindred  points  of  heaven  and  home." 

In  that  incomparable  modesty,  which  set  off,  in  its 
mild,  opal  light,  his  virtues  and  his  graces,  he  thought 
very  poorly  of  these  admirable  productions,  and  has 
half  suggested  the  desire  that  they  remain  still  fugitive. 
*  But  this  must  not  be  suffered.  They  are  part  and  par- 
cel of  his  nature,  and  of  his  office.  As  he  lived  them, 
so  he  preaches  in  them,  and  will,  while  the  Gospel  shall 
be  preached.  What  could  more  clearly  vindicate  for 
him  the  name  of  Christian  Poet,  than  his  lines,  entitled 
"  The  Ordinal,-'  written  on  the  day  of  his  ordination  by 
Bishop  Brownell,  in  his  father's  church,  at  New  Haven, 
Saint  Paul's  day,  1829  ? 

*  The  Christian  world  will  welcome,  gladly,  a  forthcoming  collection  of  Dr. 
Croswell's  verses,  under  the  appropriate  and  able  editorship  of  the  Rev.  A.  C. 
Coxe,  D.D. 


THE   SACRED    SYMPATHY   OF   SOEROW.  585 

"  Alas  for  me  if  I  forget 

The  memory  of  that  day 
Which  fills  my  waking  thoughts,  nor  yet 

E'en  sleep  can  take  away  ! 
In  dreams  I  still  renew  the  rites, 

Whose  strong  but  mystic  chain 
The  spirit  to  its  God  unites, 

And  none  can  part  again. 

"  How  oft  the  Bishop's  form  I  see, 

And  hear  that  thrilling  tone 
Demanding  with  authority 

The  heart  for  God  alone. 
Again  I  kneel  as  then  I  knelt, 

While  he  above  me  stands, 
And  seem  to  feel  as  then  I  felt 

The  pressure  of  his  hands. 

"  Again  the  priests  in  meet  array, 

As  my  weak  spirit  fails. 
Beside  me  bend  them  down  to  pray 

Before  the  chancel  rails ; 
As  then,  the  Sacramental  host 

Of  God's  elect  are  by, 
When  many  a  voice  its  utterance  lost. 

And  tears  dimmed  many  an  eye. 

"  As  then  they  on  my  vision  rose, 

The  vaulted  aisles  I  see, 
And  desk  and  cushioned  book  repose 

In  solemn  sanctity, — 
The  mitre  o'er  the  marble  niche, 

The  broken  crook  and  key 
That,  from  a  Bishop's  tomb,  shone  rich 

With  polished  tracery. 


586       THE  SACKED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOEEOW. 

"  The  hangings,  the  baptismal  font, 

All,  all,  save  me,  unchanged, 
The  holy  table,  as  was  wont. 

With  decency  arranged ; 
The  linen  cloth,  the  plate,  the  cup, 

Beneath  their  covering  shine. 
Ere  priestly  hands  are  lifted  up 

To  bless  the  bread  and  wine. 

"  The  solemn  ceremonial  past, 

And  I  am  set  apart 
To  serve  the  Lord,  from  first  to  last, 

With  undivided  heart ; 
And  I  have  sworn,  with  pledges  dire 

Which  God  and  man  have  heard. 
To  speak  the  holy  truth  entire 

In  action  and  in  word. 

"  Oh  Thou  !  who,  in  Thy  holy  place, 

Ilasst  set  Thine  orders  three, 
Grant  me,  thy  meanest  servant,  grace 

To  win  a  good  degree  : 
That  so  replenished  from  above. 

And  in  my  office  tried. 
Thou  mayst  be  honoured,  and  in  love 

Thy  Church  be  edified  !  " 

I  had  come  to  Boston  in  1828,  and  in  1829  lie  came 
here,*  to  Christ  Church,  as  successor  to  the  Eev.  Dr. 
Eaton ;  who,  si3ared  in  providential  love  to  wend  his 

*  A  mutual  friend,  who  knew  him  thoroughly  and  loved  him  even  more,  re- 
minds me  that  my  first  remark  after  being  estabhshed  here,  was,  "  Now,  we  must 
have  Croswell ! "  On  his  first  appearance  in  Christ  Church,  another  of  the  three 
who  were  to  me  as  Noah,  Daniel,  and  Job,  said  to  him,  "/Tow  do  you  like  Mr. 
Doane's  friend.^ '^  "Oh"  was  his  prompt  reply,  "he  looks  as  amiable  as  Br. 
Watts!''' 


THE  SACEED  SYMPATHY  OF  SORROW.       587 

patriarclial  way  among  tlie  diildren's  cliildi'en  of  his 
first  parishioners,  was  strangely  called  to  commend  the 
parting  spirit  of  his  sou  and  brother  in  the  faith  and 
ministry  of  Christ,  into  the  hands  of  Him  who  gave  it. 
He  was  ordained  a  Priest,  and  instituted  Kector  of 
Christ  Church,  on  Saint  John  Baptist's  Day,  1829,  by 
the  venerable  Bishoj)  Griswold.  How  he  loved  the 
very  dust  that  generations  had  gathered  upon  that  an- 
cient edifice ;  how  faithfully  he  did  his  Master's  work 
there,  for  eleven  years ;  how  much  he  attached  to  him 
the  aflfectionate  confidence  of  his  parishioners ;  how 
many  feet  he  gathered  within  the  fold ;  how  many  souls 
he  knit  into  the  faith  of  Jesus  Christ,  there  are  those 
here,  who  know  and  can  bear  witness.  How  deeply 
his  heart  yearned  to  leave  its  time-honoured  walls, 
when  called  to  another  scene  of  pastoral  labour,  *  his 
loving  spirit  has  borne  testimony  in  one  of  his  own 
most  beautiful  and  touching  lyrics.  How  warmly  he 
had  cherished,  and  how  faithftdly  he  had  kept  alive  the 
feeling  of  his  ordination,  another  of  them,  bearing  date 
at  noon,  on  the  sixth  anniversary  of  that  event,  and  ap- 

*  He  took  with  him,  to  the  Diocese  of  Western  New  Yorlv,  the  following  dis- 
missory  letter : 

Dear  Sir: — The  object  of  this,  is  to  transfer  from  the  State  of  Massachu- 
setts to  your  Diocese,  the  Rev.  WilHam  Croswell.  Merely  to  say,  that,  for  three 
years  last  past  he  has  not  been  justly  hable  to  evil  report,  for  error  in  doctrine,  or 
viciousness  of  life,  though  eminently  true,  seems,  in  his  case,  very  unnecessary. 
He  will  leave  behind  him  no  clergyman  more  highly,  more  justly,  or  more  gener- 
ally esteemed,  for  those  qualities  which  constitute  and  adorn  the  gentleman,  the 
scholar,  and  the  faithful  minister  of  Christ.  While,  with  many  hundreds  of 
others,  I  deeply  regret  his  loss  to  this  Diocese,  I  may  well  congratulate  you  on 
such  an  accession  to  yours.  That,  in  his  new  situation,  he  may  find  friends  as 
numerous  and  as  cordial  as  those  he  leaves,  is  the  prayer  of  your  friend  and 
brother,  A.  V.  GRISWOLD. 

To  the  Right  Rev.  Dr.  DcLancey. 


588       THE  SACKED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOEEOW. 

parently  wiitten  while  alone,  within  its  hallowed  walls, 
most  fervently  declares. 

"  How  swift  the  years  have  come  and  gone,  smce  on  this  blessed  day, 
A  victim  at  the  altar's  horn,  I  gave  myself  away  ; 
And,  streaming  through  the  House  of  God,  a  glory  seemed  to  shine, 
Invisible  to  other  eyes,  but  manifest  to  mine. 

****** 

"  Oh  !  father,  mother,  brethren,  '  friends,  no  less  than  brethren  dear,' 
Who  promised,  at  this  solemn  hour  to  be  in  spirit  near, 
Say,  is  it  not  your  influence  in  blended  prayer  I  feel, 
As  now,  before  the  Mercy-seat,  from  many  shrines  we  kneel ! 

"  I  would  my  heart  might  ever  thus  dissolve  with  fervent  heat, 
As  here,  '  fast  by  the  oracle,'  the  service  I  repeat, 
That  ever,  in  my  inmost  soul,  the  same  rejoicing  light 
Might  burn,  like  Zion's  altar  flame,  unquenchable  and  bright." 

Four  years  lie  ministered  as  Rector  of  Saint  Peter's 
Churcli,  Auburn,  earnestly,  faithfally,  most  acceptably, 
and  most  successfully.  But  Boston  had  been  the  scene 
of  the  labours  of  his  earliest  love.  His  tastes  and  hab- 
its inclined  him  to  a  city  life.  The  bonds  of  nature 
drew  this  way.  And  more  than  all,  his  heart  was 
yearning  to  dissolve  itself  upon  a  ministry  among  the 
]30or.  It  was  no  recent  passion.  It  was  the  sacred 
fancy  of  his  youth.  Hours  and  hours  had  we  dis- 
coursed of  it  too-ether.  His  labours,  while  connected 
with  Christ  Church,  had  partaken  largely  of  that  char- 
acter. He  had  been  everybody's  minister,  that  had  no 
other.  He  had  qualified  himself  to  be  the  servant  of 
Christ's  poor ;  and,  in  his  yearning  nature,  he  could 
brook  no  other  service.     What  could  be  plainer  proof 


THE  SACEED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOEKOW.       589 

of  this  tlian  tlie  following  lines,  whicli  he  wrote  in 
1830,  and  which,  ten  days  before  his  death,  he  copied 
out  and  sent  to  a  Church  paper,  in  New  York,  in  which 
the  claims  of  the  poor  find  a  devoted  advocate ! 

"  Lord  !  lead  the  way  the  Saviour  went, 

By  lane  and  cell  obscure, 
And  let  love's  treasures  still  be  spent 
Like  His,  upon  the  poor. 

"  Like  Him,  through  scenes  of  deep  distress 
Who  bore  the  world's  sad  weight, 
We  in  their  crowded  loneliness 
Would  seek  the  desolate. 

"  For  Thou  hast  placed  us  side  by  side 
In  this  wide  world  of  ill ; 
And,  that  Thy  followers  may  be  tried, 
The  poor  are  with  us  still. 

"  Mean  are  all  offerings  we  can  make  ; 
But  Thou  hast  taught  us,  Lord, 
If  given  for  the  Saviour's  sake, 
They  lose  not  their  reward." 

Who  could  have  any  doubt  as  to  where  liis  heart 
was,  who  wrote  these  verses  one-and-twenty  years  ago  ? 
Who  but  admires  the  steadfastness  of  purpose  and  un- 
relenting self-devotion  to  a  sacred  cause,  which,  after 
one-and-twenty  years,  could  reproduce,  and  readopt, 
and  reassert  them  ?  Who  that  loves  him,  or  loves  his 
Lord,  would  have  his  latest  contributions  to  the  service 
of  the  Gospel,  any  other,  in  line  or  letter,  than  this  is  ? 
Beautifully,  feelingly,  fervently  did  he  adopt,  for  the 


590  THE   SACKED   SYMPATHY   OF   SOEEOW. 

conclusion  of  the  letter  wticli  enclosed  it, — may  we  all 
have  grace  to  do  so  ! — tlie  admirable  pre- Advent  col- 
lect :  "  Stir  up,  we  beseech  Thee,  O  Lord,  the  wills  of 
Thy  faithful  people ;  that  they  plenteously  bringing 
forth  the  fruit  of  good  works,  may,  by  Thee,  be  plente- 
ously rewarded,  through  Jesijs  Cheist,  our  Loed." 

In  1844,  these  longings  of  his  pious  heart  were  met. 
A  sufficient  number  of  like-minded  persons  was  found 
to  organize  a  Church,  whose  sittings  should  be  free, 
that  all  who  would,  might  come ;  which  should  be 
supported,  through  the  channel  of  the  weekly  Offertory, 
that  every  one  might  lay  up,  on  the  Lord's  day,  as  the 
Apostle  hath  enjoined,  according  to  his  ability ;  which 
should  celebrate  daily  Morning  and  Evening  Prayer, 
in  accordance  with  the  order  of  the  Prayer  Book,  and 
so  be  "a  House  of  Prayer  for  all  people."  His  first 
meeting  with  the  Corporation  of  the  Church  of  the 
Advent,  was  on  the  eve  of  November  9th,  1844 — ^by 
a  strange  coincidence,  the  very  day,  whose  seventh  re- 
turn Avas  to  take  their  Rector  from  their  head.  The 
worship,  for  six  months,  was,  as  the  earliest  Christian 
worship  was,  in  "  an  upper  room."  A  suitable  hall 
Avas  then  provided  and  prepared,  which  was  in  use  two 
years  and  a  half.  This  j)resent  house  of  prayer,  secured 
and  adapted  at  the  cost  of  $17,000,  was  opened  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Advent  season,  in  184T.  At  the  first 
service  in  this  Parish  about  fifty  persons  were  as- 
sembled. The  present  number  of  stated  worshippers  is 
computed  at  ten  or  twelve  times  that  number.  The 
weekly  offerings  have  continually  increased,  and  nearly 


THE  SACRED  SYMPATHY  OF  SORROW.       591 

equal  tlie  ordinary  expenditure  for  the  service.  Cluist's 
poor,  meanwliile,  are  not  neglected.  The  pious  purpose 
to  erect  a  more  Church-like  and  capacious  structure  has 
been  kept  in  view,  and  an  accumulating  fund  begun 
toward  its  accomplishment;  while  individuals  have 
owned  themselves  the  debtors  of  the  Lord,  one,  in  the 
offering  of  a  costly  service  for  the  Holy  Altar,  and 
others,  in  a  valuable  organ,  and  in  other  ways.  The 
number  of  annual  baptisms  has  increased  from  ten  to 
fifty,  and  the  number  of  Communicants  from  seventy 
to  two  hundred  and  twelve.  The  whole  number  of 
baptisms  has  been  two  hundred  and  eighty-eight ;  of 
persons  confirmed,  one  hundred  and  nine ;  and  of 
Communicants  admitted,  three  hundred  and  thirty- 
three.  From  seventy-five  to  one  hundred  children  are 
reported  as  under  catechetical  instruction. 

These  are  encouraging  statistics.  This  is  a  wonder- 
ful result.  It  is  an  enterprise  perplexed  with  hin- 
drances. There  is  the  prejudice  against  it,  that  it  is 
new ;  when,  in  fact,  it  is  the  apostolic  way.  And  there 
are  private  personal  prejudices ;  of  pride,  of  selfishness, 
of  incredulity,  of  inexperience,  of  settled  habit.  I  never 
knew  a  man  that  was  so  well  fitted,  to  contend  with 
all  these  prejudices,  and  overcome  them.  In  the  first 
place,  he  was  filled  full  with  the  spirit  of  Christ.  He 
was,  emphatically,  "  a  man  of  loves."  His  heart  was 
large  enough  to  take  in  all  the  world.  His  generosity 
was  unbounded.  When  he  first  heard  of  the  under- 
takino;  to  relieve  the  Institutions  of  the  Church,  at 
Burlington,  ft-om  their  indebtedness,  and  to  secure  their 


592  THE   SACEED   SYJMPATHY    OF   SOEEOW. 

perpetuity,  lie  walked  tlie  floor  for  very  nervousness  of 
joy,  and  said  that  lie  liad  never  so  desu'ed  a  private 
fortune,  that  lie  might  give  it  all.  And  his  kindness 
was  as  considerate  and  delicate,  in  all  its  details,  as  it 
was  boundless  in  its  comprehension.  He  knew  the 
very  thing  to  do,  the  very  word  to  say,  the  very  time 
and  place  to  do  it  and  to  say  it.  And  of  this  discrimi- 
nating propriety,  the  poor  have  a  most  keen  and  accu- 
rate perception.  And  his  faith  was  equal  with  his 
love.  He  was  certain  that  it  was  the  ancient  way,  and 
onust  be  right.  With  such  a  confidence  he  could  afford 
to  wait.  He  did  not  fix  the  time  for  his  results.  He 
would  go  on,  and  find  them  when  they  came.  Then  he 
was  wonderful  in  his  humility.  He  esteemed  every 
other  better  than  himself.  He  cared  not  what  the  ser- 
vice was,  so  he  could  do  it ;  or  for  whom  it  was,  so  it 
would  be  received.  And,  from  his  humility,  there 
sprang  a  beautiful  simplicity,  which  was  a  letter  of 
universal  commendation.  He  was  a  gentleman  not 
only,  but  the  gentlest  man.  No  man,  ever,  was  more 
acceptable  to  the  refined  and  intellectual.  No  man 
had,  ever,  easier  access  to  the  poor,  the  ignorant,  the 
vicious,  the  degraded.  He  won  their  confidence,  at 
once.  And  the  more  they  saw  of  him,  the  more  they 
trusted.  He  was  so  considerate  of  their  feelings.  He 
was  so  charitable  to  their  infirmities.  He  was  so  con- 
stant in  his  assiduity.  He  knew  the  strings  in  every 
broken  heart ;  and  had,  from  God,  the  medicine  to  heal 
theii'  hurts.  He  seemed  a  ministering  angel  to  them ; 
and  they  glorified  God  in  him.     But,  especially,  he  was 


THE   SACEED    SYIVIPATHY   OF   SORROW.  593 

SO  unreserved  in  liis  self-sacrifice.  One  says  of  Mm, 
"  Dr.  Croswell  was  instant,  in  season  and  out  of  season. 
He  never  was  known  to  refuse  any  call  for  service  or 
duty."^^  And  anotlier,f  than  wliom  no  living  man 
knows  better  wliat  Clirist's  servants  witli  tlie  poor 
should  be,  speaks  tkus  of  liim,  in  words,  w^liicli  coming 
from  tlie  heart  go  to  it.  "  How  they  loved  him  !  Be- 
cause he  was  like  his  Master.  Of  Him  he  had  learned 
to  '  be  pitiful,  to  be  courteous '  to  the  poorest,  to  the 
humblest.  How  hard  it  is  to  be  like  Him ;  so  true, — 
so  simple  in  doing  good  ! — The  distance  was  never  too 
great  for  him  to  go,  to  do  good,  for  Christ's  sake — the 
storm  was  never  too  severe  for  him  to  find  his  way 
throuo^h  it,  to  relieve  a  tossed  and  beaten  sufterer — the 
night  was  never  too  late,  nor  too  dark,  for  him  to  find 
his  way,  to  bear  the  Cross,  with  its  consolations,  to  the 
bed  of  death."  How  plainly  I  can  see  him  now ;  with 
his  old  cloak  wrapped  about  him,  which  he  would 
gladly  have  given  to  the  next  poor  man,  if  he  had 
thought  it  good  enough  for  him;  and  with  his  huge 
overshoes,  which,  -when  he  put  them  on  so  deliberately, 
would  always  bring  to  mind  what  the  Apostle  said, 
about  having  the  "  feet  shod  with  the  preparation  of 
the  Gospel  of  peace."  As  he  set  out  upon  his  ministry 
of  mercy  you  might  think  him  veiy  slow,  and  doubt  if 
he  would  find  his  way,  and  wonder  when  he  would  get 
back,  or  if  he  ever  would.     But,  ere  he  slept,  he  would 

*  MS.  letter. 

f  The  Rev.  E.  M.  P.  Wells,  of  Saint  Stephen's  House,  Boston,  Missionary  to 
the  poor,  in  his  last  Annual  Report  of  his  labours,  in  the  city  of  Boston. 

VOL.  IV. — 38 


594       THE  SACKED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOEEOW. 

have  tlireaded  every  darkest  and  most  doleful  lane,  in 
the  most  destitute  quarter  of  the  city,  dived  into  cellars, 
and  climbed  garrets,  comforted  a  lonely  widow,  prayed 
by  a  dying  sailor,  administered  the  Holy  Communion  to 
an  old  bed-ridden  woman,  carried  some  bread  to  a  fam- 
ily of  halfstarved  children,  engaged  a  mother  to  be 
sure  and  send  her  youngest  daughter  to  an  infant 
school,  and  "  made  a  sunshine,"  in  the  shadiest  j^laces 
of  human  suffering  and  sorrow.  And,  when  all  this 
was  done,  if  he  had  time  for  it,  he  would  charm  the 
most  refined  and  intellectual  with  his  delightful  conver- 
sation, and  his  pure  and  lambent  playfulness.  With  a 
manner  that  seemed  quite  too  quiet,  there  was  an 
undercurrent  of  ceaseless,  iiTepressible  activity;  and 
brightest  thoughts,  in  happiest  words,  were  ever  oozing 
out,  like  fragrant  gums,  from  some  East  Indian  tree,  as 
soft,  as  sweet,  as  balmy,  as  balsamic.  "  He  was  a  schol- 
ar, and  a  ripe  and  good  one."  I  may  add,  as  justly ; 
"exceeding  wise,  fairspoken,  and  persuading."  He  had 
an  intuition  for  good  books,  and  the  best  parts  of 
them  ;  as  he  had  also  for  good  men.*  "With  all  he  did, 
and  with  the  little  that  he  seemed  to  do — the  very 
reverse  of  Chaucer's  Sergeant,  who  "  seemed  besier 
than  he  was ; "  he  was  at  home  in  all  good  English 
learning,  with  perfect  mastery  among  the  poets.  His 
classical  attainments  were  much  beyond  the  average. 
He  was  a  well  read  divine ;  and,  beyond  any  man  I 

*  One  of  the  keenest  knowers  I  have  ever  met,  observed  of  him,  that  his 
knowledge  of  men  was  most  remarkable.  "It  was  hard  to  get  his  judgment,"  he 
remarked;  "but  when  you  had  it,  it  was  a  good  one.  He  was  a  staff  that  you 
might  lean  on,  sure  that  it  would  neither  bend  nor  break." 


THE   SACEED   SYMPATHY    OF   SOEEOW.  595 

knew,  was  "  miglity  in  tlie  Scriptures  "  and  skilful  in 
his  application  of  tliem.  His  sermons  were  entirely 
practical.  The  object  of  his  preaching  Avas  apparent 
always : — to  make  men  better.  He  sunk  himself  en- 
tii'ely  in  his  theme : — Cheist  Jesus  and  Hni  ceucieied. 
He  had  no  manner.  Yet  the  perfect  conviction  which 
he  earned  with  him  from  the  first,  that  he  was  really 
in  earnest,  made  him  attractive  to  all  sorts  of  people, 
high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  wise  and  simple,  ignorant 
and  learned,  and  made  him  profitable  to  all.  And, 
Avhatever  his  discourse  might  be,  in  matter  or  in  man- 
ner, there  was  the  cogent  application  always,  of  a  holy 
and  consistent  life.  His  habits  were  simple,  almost 
to  severity.  "  Having  food  and  raiment,"  he  was 
"  therewith  content."  What  remained,  after  necessities 
were  met,  was  so  much  for  the  poor.  He  was  a 
Churchman  of  the  noblest  pattern.  A  Churchman  of 
the  Bible,  and  of  the  Prayer  Book.  A  Churchman, 
with  Anclrewes,  and  Taylor,  and  Wilson.  If  he  was 
least  tolerant  of  any  form  of  error,  it  was  that  of  Papal 
EoME.  He  would  have  burned,  if  need  had  been,  with 
Latimer  and  Eidley.  He  made  no  compromise  with 
novelties,  but  always  said  "  the  old  is  better."  There 
was  no  place  for  the  fantastic  in  his  churchmanship  ;  it 
was  taken  up,  too  much,  with  daily  work,  and  daily 
prayer,  and  daily  caring  for  the  poor.  There  was  no 
antagonism  between  his  poetry  and  practice.  His 
poetry  was  practical.  It  was  the  way-flower  of  his 
daily  life;    its  violet,  its  cowslip,  or  its  pansy.*     It 

*  How  fond  he  was  of  flowers !     Beautiful  tributes  of  this  kind,  went  with 


596       THE  SACKED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOEEOW. 

sprang  up  wliere  lie  walked.     You  could  not  get  a  let- 
ter from  him,  tliougli  made  up  of  tlie  details  of  business 
or  the  household  trifles  of  his  hearth,  that  some  sweet 
thought,  (as  natural  as  it  was  beautiful,)  would   not 
bubble  up  above  the  surface  with  prismatic  hues  that 
marked  it  his.    His  heart  was  wholly  in  the  j^riesthood. 
He  loved  to  pray.    He  loved  to  minister  the  Sacraments. 
He  loved  to  preach.     He  loved  to  catechize  the  chil- 
dren.    And,  w^hen  he  lifted  up  his  manly  voice  in  the 
old  hymns  and  anthems  of  the  Church,  it  seemed  as  if 
a  strain  of  the  eternal  worship  had  strayed  do^vn  from 
heaven.    He  was  so  modest  and  retiring  that  few  knew 
him  well.     But  there  is  no  one  that  knew  him  well, 
that  will  not  say,  "with  me,  "  we  shall  not  look  upon  his 
like  again."     If  he  excelled  in  any  one  relation,  after 
his  service  to  Christ's  poor,  it  was  in  all  the  acts  and 
offices  of  friendship.     He   was   a  perfect   friend.     So 
delicate,  so  thoughtful,  so  candid,  so  loving,  so  constant. 
"  More  than  my  brother,"  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  I 
dare  not  trust  myself  to  speak  of  what  he  was  to  me ; 
of  what  I  know  I  was  to  him.     I  never  heard  words 
spoken,  with   sincerer  pleasure,  than  when,  the   other 
day,  his  old  heroic  father — ^who   might   well   declare, 
with  aged  Ormond,  that  "  he  would  not  exchange  his 
dead  son,  for  any  living  son,  in  Christendom  " — said  to 
the  coachman  who  had  driven  us  out  to  weep  together 


him  into  the  grave.  He  was  a  fond  lover  of  music,  too.  He  not  only  took  a 
leading  part  in  the  music  of  the  Church,  but  employed  his  exquisite  taste  in  its 
selection.  So  that  its  whole  character  was  singularly  tender,  touching,  and  im- 
pressive. 


THE  SACKED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOEEOW.       597 

by  liis  grave/^'  ^^TUs  is  the  Bislioi)  of  Neiu  Jersey ; 
the  best  friend  that  my  son  ever  had^  on  eartliP  I  would 
not  covet  for  my  child  a  richer  earthly  treasure,  or  a 
higher  human  praise,  than  to  be  William  Croswell's 
best  and  dearest  friend. 

And,  "  Lycidas  is  dead ;  dead,  ere  his  prime  !  "  In 
the  midst  of  his  years  and  of  his  usefulness.  When  a 
keener  enjoyment  of  his  social  and  domestic  comforts 
had  been  awakened  in  him.  When  the  work,  which 
he  loved  beyond  his  life,  was  prosperous  to  his  heart's 
content.  When  he  was  looking  out  on  life,  after  some 
years  of  trial  and  discouragement,  not  without  physical 
suffering,  Avith  a  more  cheerful  aspect.  When  the  just 
estimate  of  his  invaluable  ser\dces  had  placed  his  fami- 
ly with  him  in  a  convenient  mansion,  with  becoming 
fixtures ;  so  that  he  said  to  one,  in  his  own  pleasant 
way,  "  my  feet  are  set  in  a  large  room."  When  he  had 
put  in  order  his  personal  and  parochial  papers.  When 
he  had  planned  for  the  Advent  season,  in  which  he  so 
delighted,  the  training  of  a  class  for  Confirmation,  and 
had  beojuu  his  course  of  teachins;.  When  he  had  met  his 
brethren  and  old  friends  at  Hartford,  at  the  recent 
Consecration  there  ;  and  enjoyed  them  all,  Avith  a  pecu- 
liar zest.  When  he  had  sj)ent  a  happy  day  beside  his 
father's  hearth ;  glad  that  it  rained,  that  he  might  stay 
at  home  and  have  them  all  to  his  own  self:  and  said 
that  he  felt  so  much  better,  that  he  believed  he 
would  resume  his   old   poetic  trade.      When  he   had 

*  His  mortal  part  rests  ia  the  burying  ground  at  New  Haven.     It  was  bis 
desire,  recorded  years  ago,  that  be  migbt  be  buried  "  deep  in  the  ground." 


598       THE  SACKED  SYMPATHY  OF  SOEEOW. 

spent,  with  liis  domestic  dear  ones,  the  interval  of  Sun- 
day, with  an  even  more  than  wonted  cheerfulness; 
making  his  latest  j)ersonal  memorandum ;  and  even 
dating  the  letter  which  his  little  daughter  was  to  send 
to  her  grandfather  the  next  day.  "When  he  had  se- 
cured mthin  the  fold  of  Christ  the  little  child  of  a  dear 
friend,  whose  baptism  had,  for  weeks,  been  providential- 
ly delayed.  When  he  was  yet  engaged  in  the  choicest 
work  of  his  true  pastoral  heart,  in  feeding  the  lambs 
of  Jesus,  and  had  not  yet  wholly  preached  the  sermon 
which  he  had  prepared  for  little  children.  In  an  instant, 
'•  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,"  (so  that  he  gave  the 
hymn  from  memory  which  he  could  not  find  in  his  fa- 
miliar prayer-book,*  and  had  to  say  the  benediction  on 
his  knees,f)  in  an  instant,  "  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye," 
"  the  silver  cord  "  was  "  loosed,  the  golden  bowl "  was 
"  broken,  the  pitcher  "  was  "  broken  at  the  fountain,  the 
wheel "  was  "  broken  at  the  cistern,  the  dust  "  returned 
"  to  the  earth,  as  it  was,  and  the  spirit  unto  God  who 
gave  it."  A  vein,  that  had  been  overtasked  in  that 
majestic  form,  (so  beautiful  in  death  that  one  describ- 

*  It  is  remarkable  that,  in  his  embarrassment,  though  he  gave  out  the  first 
line  of  the  eighty-eighth  hymn,  "  Soldiers  of  Christ,  arise !  "  he  announced  it  by 
number  as  the  one  hundred  and  eighty-eighth,  the  third  verse  of  which  is  as 

follows : 

"Determined  are  the  days  that  fly 
Successive  o'er  thy  head ; 
Tlte  numbered  hour  is  on  the  wing. 
That  lays  thee  ivith  the  dead." 

In  two  hours  he  was  "with  the  dead." 

f  An  admirable  sermon  by  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Fredericton,  preached  in  the 
Church  of  the  Advent,  three  Sundays  before  Dr.  Croswell's  death,  contains  the 
following  sentence : — "  Suppose  we  were  to  be  seized  with  a  stroke  of  paralysis, 
or  of  any  sudden  disease,  where  could  we  be  found  with  so  much  comfort  as  on 
our  knees,  in  public  prayer  ?  "     How  strange  a  coincidence ! 


THE  SACKED  SYMPATHY  OF  SORROW.       599 

ed  it,  wlieii  it  had  readied  New  Haven,  as  resembling 
some  exquisite  masterpiece  of  statuary,*)  liad  yielded 
to  the  rushing  current  of  the  life-blood  from  the  brain ; 
and  there  was  a  mdow  and  an  orphan  in  his  house, 
and  sheep  without  a  shepherd  in  his  fold ;  his  aged 
parents  and  devoted  brothers  Avere  bereaved  of  their 
darling ;  the  twin  was  taken  from  my  heart ;  Christ's 
"  poor  had  lost  a — Croswell."f 

Can  I  conclude  in  fitter  w^ords  than  in  his  own, 
when  I  had  wTitten  him,  in  1834,  of  the  last  hours  of 
my  dear  friend,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Montgomery  :  "  Your  last 
most  touching  letter  has  made  me  weep  with  them  that 
weep,  and  left  my  heart  more  tender  than  ever  to  the 
sacred  sorrows  of  this  w^eek  of  the  Passion.  The  follow- 
ing lines,  the  sincere  impulse  of  my  feelings,  arranged 
themselves,  almost  spontaneously,  as  they  stand  : — 

"  My  brother,  I  have  read 
Of  holy  men,  in  Christ  who  fell  asleep. 
For  -whom  no  bitter  tears  of  woe  were  shed ; 

I  could  not  weep. 

"  And  thou  thyself  art  one, 
0  man  of  loves,  and  truth  without  alloy  ! 
The  Master  calleth,  and  thy  work  well  done, 

Enter  thy  joy  ! 

"  To  such  as  thee  belong 
Tlie  harmonies  in  which  all  Heaven  unite, 
To  share  the  '  inexpressive  nuptial  song ' 

And  walk  in  white. 

'■  Every  one  spoke  of  his  singular  beauty  in  deiath.  lie  was  buried  in  his 
customary  dress,  over  which  was  the  surplice.  It  was  one  that  had  belonged  to 
his  friend,  and  mine,  tfle  Rev.  Edward  G.  Prcscott,  who  died  at  sea,  on  his  voyage 
to  Fayal.  He  has  scarcely  written  any  thing  more  beautiful  than  his  tribute  to 
his  memory.  •]■  The  Rev.  Dr.  Wells'  Report. 


600       THE  SACRED  SYMPATHY  OF  SORROW. 

"  And  oh  !  thy  church,  thy  home, 
Thy  widowed  homo  ! — Who  shall  forbid  to  grieve? 
How  may  they  bear  the  desolating  gloom 

Such  partings  leave  ? 

"  Great  Shepherd  of  the  flock  ! 
Even  Thou  whose  life  was  given  for  the  sheep, 
Sustain  them  in  the  overwhelming  shock, 

And  safely  keep  !  " 

Three  words,  beloved,  and  I  liave  done.  His 
"  liome,"  Ms  "  widowed  liome,"  w^U  you  leave  tliat 
uncomforted  ?  His  work,  liis  glorious  work,  will  you 
leave  tliat  to  falter  ?  His  teaching,  his  example,  the 
beauty  of  his  saintly  life,  the  perfect  beauty  of  his  glo- 
rious and  triumphant  death,  shall  they  be  lost  upon 
your  hearts?  Shall  they  be  lost  upon  your  lives?* 
Oh !  for  the  testimony,  if  they  are,  that  he  will  bear 
against  you,  when  you  stand  with  him  before  the 
Judge !  Oh !  for  the  blessedness  and  glory,  if  you 
bear  the  cross  of  Jesus  Christ  as  he  did,  and  conquer 
with  him  in  that  sign,  which  shall  be  yours  when  you 
shall  enter  with  him  the  celestial  fold,  and  be  with  him 
for  ever  with  the  Lamb  ! 

*  Nothing  could  exceed  the  solemnity  and  impressiveness  of  all  the  arrange- 
ments after  his  death.  Thousands  visited  the  remains,  most  of  them  of  the  poor 
for  whom  he  lived.  The  Church  was  filled  with  mourners,  the  Bishop  of  the 
Diocese,  with  the  assistant  Bishop  of  Connecticut,  and  above  sixty  of  the  clergy 
being  present.  The  admirable  resolutions  of  the  Wardens  and  Vestry  ■well  ex- 
press their  feelings  and  the  feelings  of  the  Parishioners. 

Resolutions  were  also  adopted  by  the  Clergy,  assembled  at  the  house  of  the 
Bishop,  he  himself  presiding,  and  by  the  Vestry  of  Christ  Church. 


I'lllTlli'lliVl'liri'SlV    ^'■""nary-Speer    L.brary 


1    1012  01128  8620 


DATE  DUE 

_^^  ^^     ■ 

"*""** 

1 

Demco,  Inc.  38-293                                                                                          1 

